To Dream
by Iluvien
Summary: Complete We know Elven dreams are realistic… but real? Before his dreams got tangled up with Oloriel’s, Elladan never knew how challenging it could be to fall asleep. Ch36: And They Lived: How Elladan and Oloriel came to live ever after... NoSlashPro
1. The Dream Dreams the Dreamer

Disclaimer: Anything that doesn't look like mine most likely isn't! Three cheers for JRRT and his wonderful imagination!

Things to know about this story:

1.) May not be _pure _Tolkien

2.) In this story elves are generally in some control of their dreams.   
3.) While I hold to the idea that Elves can see dream-images or shadows of other elves/people on the _Olórë Mallë_ (Path of Dreams), for purposes of this story they normally don't, and perhaps never do, actually meet others in their dreams. But something is going to happen in this story which is _not_ normal.

Names/Pronunciations/Translation will come at the end of each chapter. () signal footnotes 

__________________

Chapter 1: The Dream Dreams the Dreamer 

***

__

Sometimes dreams alter the course of an entire life.   
– Judith Duerk 

***

"You know, brother, that if you stare much longer at that stone you will probably bore a hole through it." 

Elrohir came up from behind Elladan and crouched down next to him at the edge of the encampment, which was settled in an outcropping of distressed looking trees that was located on the edge of a craggy, barren expanse. The other Rangers were asleep around a slowly dying fire. 

"One would almost think you were neglecting your duties, with how hard you are focusing on that poor defenseless stone." He continued. 

Elladan sat motionless for several moments, then replied. 

"You know very well that I can keep watch much better with my ears than with my eyes when there is no moon to see by." 

"Ah yes, but I still thought I should take some pity on the helpless pebble and try to rescue it from its imminent peril. But really, brother, what is wrong? One of the very few ways that I can not only feel your frustration, but see it, is when you do not raise your eyes to the stars. And when your _fëa_(1) is not in harmony, then something must be truly wrong with the world." 

Elladan let out a dry, mirthless laugh. "Is that how I am? So harmonious and complacent that the world must be coming to an end if something has shaken my _fëa_?" 

"No, but usually it is only I who have the privilege of shaking your peace of mind, and I am fairly sure that I have not led you astray recently. In fact, the last time I did so was such a disaster from your point of view that I think I will not be able to influence you for a good long while. Although I still don't see what was so horrible about the whole affair. We've been in trouble with father before. And even braving Lord Erestor's fury was well worth it when you remember the look on his face when he discovered – " 

"Enough! I still can't believe you talked me into that. But that has nothing to do with my present frame of mind. Your talking is now doing more to distract me from my watch then was my glaring at the 'poor defenseless stone'. Be gone." 

"Well, I will not argue with you. For I swear that I saw the corner of your mouth twitch. And though I will not say that it _was_ the hint of a smile, I will also not say that it wasn't. Therefore my mission has been somewhat of a success." 

"Was your mission to make me smile, or was it to infuriate me out of my stupor?" 

"Well, that and tell you to get some sleep. I do not need any more, and you worked harder today than I did. Take the extra rest while you can get it." 

Elladan truly did smile then. Elrohir might be slightly infuriating, but he could also be very considerate. Elladan needed some rest – he needed to escape reality for a while. 

Reality; that had been pressing down on him quite a bit of late. He did feel out of harmony with the world. To most people who knew him, he was a quite tempered, contemplative, well-mannered elf, who only occasionally caused trouble (usually under the influence of his more fun-loving twin). He was the sturdy one. The one you could count on. But he was also the one that had a tendency to disappear into the scenery. He loved his family dearly, and they loved him. But outside of that circle he felt like most of the world would not miss him much if he were not in it. Certainly there were friends and even admirers at home – but not many of them truly knew him. He felt like he wasn't needed. He felt rather alone. 

He sighed heavily as he lay down under his blanket. He tried to tell himself that he was being irrational. But before he could accomplish this feat, he slipped into the path of Elven dreams. 

When he slipped into his dream he knew something was wrong. He did not feel danger, but he also did not feel in control. 

He entered the _Olóre Mallë_(2) as he usually did. His physical surroundings faded away or perhaps, more precisely, blended into the dreamscape. The fire, which had been slowly dying, had been stoked into a cheery flame. The trees, which looked as though they had seen too many harsh winters, transformed themselves into a lush vale surrounding him. The stars, brighter and nearer, peeked through the rustling leaves and seemed to sing to him. He finally raised his eyes to them. But he did not feel the peace that usually pervaded him in his trance-like sleep. It felt like something was amiss. 

He looked back down and suddenly found himself walking on a path away from the fire. He was certainly not in control of this dream. He followed the path up an incline until he came to the top of the ridge that surrounded the small glade. What he saw was quite unexpected. A mighty forest fire was roaring just beyond the ridge. The ravenous tendrils of flame reached out toward him, as if wishing to devour him. He could feel the heat radiating towards him. But before he could flinch, a sudden down pour of driving rain, from clouds that were not there before, obliterated all signs of the fire. 

He was at first quite relieved, but not for long. This rain was almost as demanding as the fire; it strove to beat him down. He was about to collapse unto his knees when he heard a cry from somewhere deep in the charred forest. Through the seared branches he thought he caught a glimpse of white. He wanted to give in and fall to the ground, but then came another cry, full of anguish and pain. He knew that he only saw the shadows of other spirits in his dream, that there was not true danger, but he could not ignore the despair that he heard in that voice. He must try to help if he could. Perhaps there was a meaning to this dream. He would contemplate it later.

He summoned all of his will power to struggle down into the forest. He hoped that the branches of the trees would afford him some cover, but in their burnt and crumbling state he did not get his wish. He wandered for several minutes through the darkened tress, until he heard again the cry, just to the left of him. As he cleared one immense trunk he came in sight of a clearing, in the middle of which knelt a lady in white. She was shaking with sobs, and thoroughly soaked. As he stared at her she screamed one more defiant oath at the sky, and tried again to stand. She slowly attempted to make her way to the edge of the clearing opposite him, but the wind always seemed to be set against her. She was being whipped about, and would have momentarily fallen to the ground again had he not, with an unnatural burst of energy, ran straight across the clearing and caught her in his arms. 

She collapsed against him, and then raised her head. For one moment he was caught in the gaze of two perfect, leaf-green eyes, and then suddenly the storm ceased, and Elladan awoke.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Oloriel sighed. 'Another hours work ruined', she thought. She had yet again misjudged the time it would take to attend on her patient in another room of the House of Healing, and had therefore ruined her latest batch of ointment. The recipe was quite clear: the concoction must be allowed to sit for one hour – and one hour only – before adding the last ingredient and mixing. She had been gone an hour and a half. 'Oh well, at least that was my only foible of the day.' 

Oloriel was trying to be optimistic. Apparently, the Lady of the Golden Wood thought that she had some promise as a healer, and Oloriel was trying to live up to that promise, but something always seemed to happen. 

'At least I still have my singing voice.' Oloriel smiled ryely. A few days ago she had tried to drink a beverage while putting together a batch of cleansing wash, and had almost taken a drink out of the wrong container. Something told her that a liquid designed to destroy bacteria in a festering wound would not have been very forgiving on her throat and vocal chords. 

After she cleaned up her latest misadventure, she gathered up a pile of dirty clothes that she had promised Írima, one of the helpers, she would wash. Poor Írima, she hated having to pass up her duties, but Oloriel was not about to let a pregnant elf over-tax herself – she had insisted on helping Írima with her duties. 

On her way back to her own flet(3), Oloriel was waylaid by her childhood friend, Kallindo. He was in an annoyingly helpful mood. 

"Here, Aiwë, let me help you with that." Kallindo bounded down a few steps, and almost knocked Oloriel over. He was always able to surprise her from behind. 

Regaining her balance, Oloriel glared at Kallindo and declared, "It is just some laundry, Kallindo. I know that I am only a young maiden, who is a walking disaster in the Houses of Healing, and a rather mediocre sparring-mate with a blade, but I think, that despite my many short-comings, I can find it within myself to accomplish the task of carrying this one load of laundry to my flet without fainting from over-exertion, falling on my face, or causing bodily injury to anyone. Thank you, but no thanks. And why do you insist on calling my Aiwë? I thought I had finally grown out of that pet name." 

Kallindo 'tsked' at her. "Well, someone's had a bad day. And yes, I am sure you're capable of carrying laundry. And no, you have not grown out of that pet name, and you never will, because you do sing as sweetly as a bird, and you are small – small enough that you can't keep me from taking this laundry off your hands." 

With those remarks, Kallindo rested the bundle from Oloriel's hands, and gave her a rather 'pleased-with-himself' look. Oloriel couldn't help but smile at it. 

"I'm sorry for venting on you, Kallindo. Actually my day wasn't too bad, but I have been brooding, and I am tired and I would like to get back to my flet." Her smile turned into a devilish grin, "Small as a bird, am I? Well at least birds can peck!" 

With that she poked him in the ribs – his most ticklish spot – regained the bundle of laundry, and in a flash had run off towards her flet. 

~~~

  
She had finished doing the laundry some time ago, and was presently standing on her balcony, looking at the stars through the many golden leaves of the forest roof. It was high time that she went to bed, for she needed to get up early the next day and make sure that Írima did not try to do too much. It had become Írima's strategy to beat Oloriel to the punch, and get in as much work as she could before she was caught. She said that she didn't want to be useless. 

Oloriel could understand that. She always wanted to be useful to others – to support them and care for them. But she wasn't sure that she had the purest motives. This is what had been disturbing her lately. 

Oloriel's mother had departed to the Undying Lands soon after she was born, and her father did not last much longer. Her older brother, Karnélas, the only other family she had in Middle Earth, was killed during duty along the borders of the Golden Wood many years ago. People she cared about and relied upon had the tendency of disappearing. Oloriel did not ever want to be abandoned again. 'I think that's why I want to be so useful, but don't want to be a burden,' she had mused to herself that afternoon. If she was very useful, then people would always want her, but she didn't want to rely on others, because that always made it hurt more when they left. In her heart, she knew that something was wrong about this way of thinking. She knew she tended to close herself off from people. Like Kallindo – she wouldn't even let him help her with a bundle of laundry! 

Oloriel sighed, and turned from the night sky. She knew she needed to sleep; but she didn't want to give herself up to it. Lately her dreams had been very disturbed. She had experienced drowning; she had been chased by orcs; she had been lost in voids – all things that should not have been occurring on the _Olóre Mallë_. She didn't have control over her dreams any more. But she had to sleep – the dreams couldn't really harm her anyway. 

She slipped under the covers and prayed to the Valar that she could have a peaceful night. She did not get her wish. 

She slipped into a beautiful forest. The sun was shining. 'This is nice,' she thought. However, it was a premature assessment. As soon as she let the words flow into her mind, the sky darkened. Night came, and a fire started sweeping through the forest. 'Why! Why does this always have to happen! Why am I so tortured!' 

Oloriel usually just waited things out. She had learned long ago that there was nothing she could do to change her circumstances. She sat still in an open area of the forest. The birds where flying away into the air – trying to escape. The fires came closer. The smoke started to get into her lungs. It was clawing at her. She found it harder and harder to breathe. She hoped that she wouldn't die – even in dreams, dying is uncomfortable. The heat started to lick at her dress. The same white dress she always found herself in. She could feel the thickness of the air around her, she could feel the heat press in against her body – closing in, crushing her. For the very first time, she called out. Not to anyone in particular, but to anyone who could hear. "Please! Somebody please help me!" 

Moments later, things started to go black. 

Then came the rain. It pelted down upon her. It beat her to the ground. She felt like it was bruising her skin. 

At that moment something snapped in her. She screamed at the sky. Why should it torment her like this? Was she not of the first born? Did not Manwë and Ulmo(4) care for her? Several times she tried to stand up, but the wind and the rain continued to beat her down. Finally, with one more primeval scream she forced herself off the ground. She staggered toward the edge of the clearing. The wind beat her back – it was like being struck with a fist in the stomach. She started to fall again. And then… someone caught her. She felt strong arms close tightly about her. She collapsed into their embrace. And then, raising her eyes she beheld the face of her helper – a dark-haired elf, with equally dark eyes, full of compassion and concern. 

And then she awoke.  
  
*~* 

1. Spirit  
2. Path of Dreams

3. A flet is a dwelling or platform in the treetops

4. Two of the Valar; I have heard the first referred to as "lord of Clouds" and the second is lord of the waters… correct me someone if I'm wrong! 

Names to Know:

Oloriel: (o-LOR-ee-el) "dream daughter" 

Aiwë: "small bird"

Kallindo: (kall-IND-o) "noble heart

Írima: (EER-im-ah) "lovely, desirable"

Karnélas: (kar-NAY-lahs) "red leaf"

If you caught my major blunder, just try to ignore the fact that I've named a bunch of Sindarin Elves with Quenya names. I spent some time finding the right names, so when I realized what I'd done I didn't feel like starting over again.

My Thanks go out to Blade-singer (Cathol-lin) at tolkienonline.com (check out her story, "Legolas and the Olórë Mallë) and the "Wandering Minds" of fanfiction.net for some sparks of inspiration concerning Elven dreams. 

EVERYONE REVIEW!!! This is my first fanfic, and my second attempt at any kind of fiction… am I good? Should I stop now before I offend any more sensibilities? Tell me tell me – I gotta know! 


	2. Strange Mornings

Disclaimer: I'm just a poor waif who doesn't have more than two pennies to rub together. I couldn't afford to buy the rights to Tolkien's work... =' (

Things to know about this story:

1.) May not be _pure _Tolkien

2.) In this story elves are generally in some control of their dreams.   
3.) While I hold to the idea that Elves can see dream-images or shadows of other elves/people on the _Olórë Mallë_ (Path of Dreams), for purposes of this story they normally don't, and perhaps never do, actually meet others in their dreams. But something is going to happen in this story which is _not_ normal.

Names/Pronunciations/Translation will come at the end of each chapter. () signal footnotes 

_______________

  
Chapter 2.) Strange Mornings 

***

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"All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream." – E.A. Poe 

***

Elladan woke with a start. His heart was racing, and he shivered as wind from the south blew over his sweat-covered brow. 'What in all of Arda(1) was that!' he wondered. His mind seemed to reel for a few moments, and then it all came clearly back to him. Everything had seemed so real – too real. The fire and the rain and… those eyes. He could still feel the weight of her in his arms, feel the dampness of her hair under his chin, and feel the searching gaze of those those two perfect green eyes… 

'Snap out of it Elladan!' he chided himself, 'I don't need to be swooning over imaginary women with green eyes.' 

He turned on his side under the blanket. He was now staring at the fire, hoping to fall back to sleep, or at least to rest his body. But the small campfire only reminded him of his dream. The blazing fire sweeping through the valley, the beating rain that followed, the girl in white, and those eyes… 

Elladan groaned, 'I must be more exhausted then I thought… losing control of my mind.' He got up, realizing that sleep would not come to him again, and went back to his brother on the outskirts of the encampment. When he walked up from behind Elrohir and sat down next to him, Elrohir gave him a knowing smile. 

"What are you doing awake? Here I am taking the rest of your watch in a cheerfully sacrificial mood, and you spurn my devotion by not sleeping when I tell you to. Brothers!" He let out an exasperated sigh. "This upsets my plans entirely. I was sure that if I took your watch this night I could talk you into to taking mine tomorrow." Elrohir ended with a playful twinkle in his eyes. 

"The best laid plans of Elves and Men… Sorry to disappoint you brother, but – " 

"You couldn't sleep. I didn't think you would last long. You went to bed in such an odd mood." 

Elladan gave him a dry smile, "My own foul mood may, as you implied earlier, foretell the end of the world, but it did not cause the end of my sleep. I had a rather disturbing… and intriguing dream. Nothing like I've ever had before. It ended rather abruptly, and… I started awake." 

"And it was so disturbing that you could not find sleep again?" Elrohir looked doubtful, and then with mock horror proclaimed, "What? Were you reliving our confrontation with the angry Lord Erestor!" 

Elladan smacked his brother on the back of the head. 

"Ouch!" Elrohir rubbed the back of his head, "Now who's disturbing whom from their watch? If you keep that up we may never see the light of day, but instead be slaughtered in the night by a roving pack of Orcs. And it will be all your fault." 

Elladan smirked at his brother 

"And I'll gladly accept the blame. I haven't hit you over the head for at least a century – I find the action to be quite soothing." 

Elrohir glared at his brother. 

"So what were you dreaming about? Not," he hesitated, "…mother again?" 

The twin's mother, Celebrian, had passed across the Sundering Sea into Valinor(2) several hundred years before. 

"No." There was a pause for several moments, and then Elladan seemed to shake himself of his pensive mood. "In fact, I dreamt of rescuing a particularly lovely young maiden from a ravenous forest fire and pelting rain." 

Elrohir eyed his brother for several seconds in silence, trying to sort something out in his brain. 

"Why is that a bad thing?" he finally asked with a quizzical expression on his face. 

Elladan chuckled softly. "Just because it involves a maiden does not automatically make it a good dream, Elrohir. Does it not seem strange that I should be experiencing forest fires, and rain that beats so hard it burns along the _Olóre Mallë_?" 

"Well, I suppose so, but even then, why should you not be able to sleep again. Surely it did not actually hurt you, and it is not likely that you would experience such again." 

"Well, if you must know, the maiden is distracting my thoughts quite a bit. I cannot see any meaning in it. Why was she in danger? Why was I there to help her? She was so beautiful and strong at the same time, but also sad. I would have helped her more if I could." 

Elrohir had to use a great deal of self-control to keep from laughing out loud. 

"What? Smitten with an imaginary dream-maiden, are we! Why you haven't looked at any girl twice, in Rivendell or LothLorien, for far too long, and you pick this figment of your imagination to become infatuated with?" 

Elladan gave his brother an annoyed glare. 

"I did not say I was smitten with her. I said she was intriguing. I am fully aware that she is not real, but she must represent something – there must be some meaning behind it all. And trying to find a meaning is what is keeping my mind so awake." Elladan knew that wasn't a complete lie. 

"Well, well. Whatever you say, brother." 

Elrohir was not convinced. 'My brother is so introspective he probably could only fall in love with someone in his own mind.' 

*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Oloriel sighed contentedly as she re-emerged into consciousness. She had felt so secure in the stranger's embrace. And he had made the storm go away. She opened her eyes on the world with a newfound sense of peace. 

'The Valar _did_ answer my prayer! I don't know why they sent the vision of an elf into my dreams. But they did send him to bring peace to the storm – I am sure of it. I think my nightmares are gone for good!' 

With the relief that came from this realization she sprang from her bed – and then, promptly flopped back down. It was still night – hours before dawn in fact. But could she go back to sleep? She decided that it wouldn't hurt to try. She rolled back into the sheets and blankets, curling herself up into a fetal position. Everything was so warm and comforting. The smells of the trees drifting in through her window fell like a healing balm on her heart. It smelled like… well, it smelled like _him_! In the warmth of her blankets she could feel his arms around her again – smell his leafy scent. A slight smile curled the edges of her mouth. But it didn't last for long. 

'What are you doing you silly little elfling? For that is how you are acting – just like a silly young she-elf! You're not supposed to dream about your imaginary dream-rescuers; it's very bad for your health!' She had to laugh at herself. 

But her laughter soon died away. Even considering the charming attributes of her dream-elf, she wondered why she would smile at the memory. It had been so long since she let anyone help her – she usually pushed people away. There were a few exceptions. She could not close herself off from the Lady of the Golden Wood, but at the same time, the Lady did not often choose to give her counsel or aid beyond what was fitting for one of her handmaidens. Oloriel's heart had been alone ever since her brother died – and she wanted it that way. And yet… it had felt good to collapse into the arms of the stranger. It felt good to not have to struggle or fight or be brave. She had to admit that she enjoyed feeling protected, and this dream vision had protected her. Of course he wasn't real, but she was glad that she had been able to feel so secure… for at least a moment. 

With these contented thoughts she fell back to sleep. Her dreams, very peaceful and calm, were filled with the scent of trees… 

~~~ 

Later that morning, after completing all her pressing duties in the House of Healing, she was on her way to the Great Talan – the house of the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood. She thought that she would inquire if there were anything else that the Lady wished of her that day. She did not work with a needle well, but sometimes the Lady's other handmaidens would enjoy a few of her songs while they worked. On her way to find out if her services were needed, Kallindo pounced on her once again. 

"Aiwë! You won't get away so easily this time. Poking me in the ribs will get you nowhere, for I have something much sharper to poke you back with!" Kallindo wove one of the two swords he carried through the air with expert precision. "Since you seemed so cast down yesterday by your lack of genius not only in the art of healing but also in that of swordplay, I thought to help you remedy the latter shortcoming." He flashed a wide grin at her, and tossed one of the swords her way. "You are coming to spar with me." 

Oloriel caught the sword deftly and then gave him a doubtful look. "I was going to go ask the Lady if she required my attendance." 

"Oh, but I am one step ahead of you, my dear Aiwë. I have already asked the Lady, and your whole day is now devoted to my tender instruction." 

With that, Kallindo took the flat side of the sword he still carried and swatted her on the backside. With a yelp, Oloriel swing around, kicked his shin, and placed her sword tip against the skin of his neck. 

"See Aiwë," Kallindo spoke cautiously, though with a twinkle in his eye, "you are not as helpless as you claim – you just need the proper provocation!" 

"I have not yet said that I _would_ spar with you." Oloriel declared firmly as she lowered the sword from under his chin. 

"Oh come now, Aiwë, it will be fun. Besides, you should never pass up the opportunity to hone any of your skills." 

Memories of her thoughts last night flew into her mind – 'to be more useful'. She wasn't sure that she wanted Kallindo teaching her, but she made a split-second decision. 

"Alright, you win. Where shall we go to practice." 

Oloriel could not ignore the shocked look on Kallindo's face. 

"My, my, I didn't think I would actually talk you into it! That was easier than I thought it would be. You usually won't let me help you with anything." 

A slight dart of guilt flew into Oloriel's heart. Perhaps making yourself needed was not the only way to be useful. Making others feel as if they were needed could also be a good skill – one well worth honing. 

Oloriel smiled faintly, "I am sorry if I am cold towards you. At least I don't single you out personally. I usually don't let anyone help me!" She tried to laugh, but it was a faint attempt. Choosing instead the road of jest she declared quite solemnly, "But, in recompense for the dishonorable act of poking a certain unarmed man in the ribs last night… I will be glad to indulge you this day." 

Kallindo flashed her another wide grin. "This way!" he called enthusiastically, then set off towards one of the training grounds with Oloriel in tow. 

  
***  
1. The world – including Middle Earth and Valinor  
2. The Undying Lands, where all the elves will reside someday 

Names of Note:  
Oloriel: "dream daughter"  
Aiwe (her nickname): "small bird"  
Kallindo: "noble heart" 

Olóre Mallë: Path of Dreams 

My Thanks go out to Blade-singer (Cathol-lin) at tolkienonline.com (check out her story, "Legolas and the Olórë Mallë) and the "Wandering Minds" of fanfiction.net for some sparks of inspiration concerning Elven dreams. 

EVERYONE REVIEW!!! This is my first fanfic, and my second attempt at any kind of fiction… do I rival the great drama of Sophocles? Do I stink worse than the smelliest cheese known tp man? Tell me tell me – I gotta know! 

~Ilúvien~


	3. Flight of Fancy

Disclaimer: I don't own anything other than my OC's (Oloriel, Kallindo, Írima, etc.)

A/N: Three things you need to know… 

1.) May not be _pure_ Tokien (?)

2.) In this story Elven dreams are pretty realistic, and Elves generally have some control over their dreams. 

3.) While I hold to the idea that Elves can see dream-images or shadows of other elves/people on the Olóre Mallë (Path of Dreams), for purposes of this story they _normally _don't, and perhaps never do, actually meet others in their dreams. But something is going to happen in this story which is _not_ normal.

Names/Pronuciations and any Translation will come at the end of each chatper. ( ) signals a footnote.

****

To my dear reviewers: Responses for you at the end of the chapter…

Get ready for a longer chapter!

__________

Chapter 3.) Flights of Fancy

***

__

"I would be the pink and silver as I ran along the paths,

And he would stumble after, bewildered by my laughter." - Amy Lowell

*** 

"Come on Aiwe, you almost had me there. I know from personal experience that you are not that timid!" Kallindo teased.

They were in the middle of their tenth sparring match. After Kallindo had first found her, they had worked mostly on stance and certain techniques, but soon after lunch they simply let it all go. Oloriel had lost the first two rounds rather quickly, but as she began to warm to it, each match took longer than the last. Still, she had only won two rounds so far.

"Quicker on your feet, Aiwe! I almost cut off your ankle there." Kallindo said through the sharp clanging of their swords.

Kallindo knew that she could do better than this. She had beaten him soundly the eighth round, and, although he won the ninth, she had almost had him cornered several times. 'Perhaps she is getting tired,' he thought.

But Oloriel was not that weak. She knew exactly what she was doing. She knew that she lacked the strength of Kallindo, and since he had taught her most of her better 'tricks' she couldn't pull off any more easy wins. She was therefore drawing him in - leaving her side open; almost letting him graze her hand; seeming to falter under the pressure of his sure strokes - and he was starting to buy her ruse; it was almost time to spring the trap. He brought his sword in low on her right. She blocked with her own sword, but instead of holding it firm, she let the momentum of his arm carry both swords away to her left, leaving her right side wide open for attack. He took the bait - hook, line, and sinker. As he lunged forward in a rather sloppy manner, assured of his own victory, she side-stepped quickly, spun round, kicked him in the back of the knee, and had him kneeling in front of her with her sword to the back of his neck in no time at all. Oloriel chuckled.

"Thought I was tiring out, didn't you?" She asked rather smuggly.

Comprehension dawned on Kallindo's features. "The lady is, as usual, correct. You were drawing me in the whole time, weren't you? I suppose I made the mistake of not thinking a lady would hazard herself to get at me."

"Well yes, we both know you're not handsome enough to deserve that kind of treatment from the ladies." Oloriel deadpanned with a smirk on her face. "But I find that seeing you kneeling on the ground before me was well worth the sacrifice of my dignity."

Kallindo groaned at her humor then put the conversation back on track. "Well, it was certainly a well fought match. You really didn't do too badly today - three out of ten matches. And you said you hadn't picked up a sword in several months. Shall we do it again tomorrow?"

Oloriel hesitated. She didn't like being indebted to people, and there were certainly other things that Kallindo could be doing other than teaching her - she knew he was just doing this to be nice. And yet, she had truly enjoyed the exercise. It made her realize how sedentary she had become - sitting in the House of Healing, or composing new music for the Lady's pleasure. Plucking a harp could not exactly be considered exercise. And she did have at least some skill with the sword - she should, as Kallindo said, develop it.

"Oh alright; but only if I have the time. I do not know what will be needed of me tomorrow."

"I will ask the Lady again for your leave, if you would like me to." Kallindo offered.

"You will do not such thing! It was rather forward of you to do so this morning. I will take care of the Lady, thank you." Oloriel shot him a pointed glance.

"Alright, alright. Have it your way. Now, since we are done today, shall I walk you back to your flet?"

"No, _I _shall walk _you _right over to the Houses of Healing so that I can patch the both of us back together."

Kallindo looked at the gash in his side and quickly agreed. He offered his arm to her, but she pretended not to notice the gesture as she gathered up the remnants of their lunch, and walked off toward the Houses.

~~~

Kallindo had not expected her to take his arm - she was one of the most distant maidens he knew. And yet she had always intrigued him. Some of his friends would chide him about how he wasted time on her, but he couldn't much help it. He was not truly in love with her, for her coldness had always stifled such a warm feeling from rising up in him. But after today, the new warmth in her was bringing his heart dangerously toward the edge.

Watching her spar had been even more inspiring. When she began to fight, her eyes took on a new light that was anything but cold. There was a fire there, and his heart could not help feeling that he had stirred it up in her. She looked breathtaking, with a few loose strands of hair hanging around her face, a determined look in her eyes, and a flush, rising and falling in her cheeks from the exertion. And the little noises she made when she was putting all her strength into a swing were quite endearing. He smiled at the memory, but then caught himself, 'Kallindo, stop it now.' He tried to reign his thoughts in - he did not need to be thinking about this. As he mentally chided himself, they arrived at the Houses of Healing. 

Írima was there, cleaning up from some of the work done that day. Oloriel started to scold the extremely pregnant elf.

"Shame on you Írima! You know that you are supposed to be resting!"

"Oloriel, I am going crazy penned up in that room of mine. You must allow me to do something - I shall go mad!"

"I know that it's frusterating, but a young elf-ling hasn't been born in LothLorien for a few hundred years; everyone just wants to make sure that nothing goes wrong, and that we don't have to wait another few hundred years. I for one am looking forward to personally spoiling that child, so I will not see you over-strain yourself!" Kallindo chuckled softly. Oloriel continued, "If you will not got back to your flet, at least sit down while I finish up. You can keep me company while I bind up Kallindo's wounds."

Írima agreed to this compromise.

That settled, Oloriel turned to Kallindo and told him in a very matter-of-fact tone, "Take off your shirt."

"What?" Kallindo exclaimed.

"There's no way I can dress the gash in your side with that shirt on. I am a healer and Írima is a married woman - there's certainly nothing to be squeamish about. Come now, sit on this bed and take off that bloodied shirt."

Kallindo did as she asked. The following ordeal did more than anything could have to pour cold water on his recently warmed emotions. While his heart seemed to lose its proper beat as he felt her delicate hands move across his torso, her eye held no reaction, and her complexion remained the same gentle ivory. She was just his healer - nothing more. And when she had told him to take his shirt off she had sounded more like his mother! During the process of swabbing, rinsing, and bandaging his several cuts, she talked cheerfully to Írima as if he wasn't there. What had he been thinking? He knew that her heart was still frosted over, and that there wasn't anything he could do about it. 

When Oloriel was finished she finally raised her face to him. 

"All done - you shall, despite previous reports, survive and fully recover in due time." She declared jovially.

So perhaps she wasn't his mother, and maybe she was more than his healer, but she was certainly nothing more than his friend. He sighed mentally, but smiled physically. Thanking her, he put a clean white shirt on from the House's stores, then took his leave of the two ladies and walked out.

~~~

Oloriel had helped Írima with the rest of her duties, and then headed toward her flet, by way of a long meandering stroll through the woods. As she walked she began to hum little nameless tunes to herself.

"Ah, I thought that was you, Oloriel - your voice is so unique." Galadriel, Lady of Light, stepped out from behind the large trunk of a _mallorn _tree a few yards from where Oloriel was walking. 

"How was your day with Kallindo?" she continued.

"It went well, I think - I did not shame myself. Although, I think I may wake up with several more bruises tomorrow morning!" Oloriel replied cheerfully.

Galadriel smiled warmly. "No doubt this is true. I must go now; therefore I shall bid you good night. May your morning be filled with light and gladness to compensate for the bruises." The Lady began to walk off, but in her mind, Oloriel continued to hear the Lady speak. //_Sweet dreams, dream daughter_(1)_//_

Oloriel had the vague feeling that the Lady knew something that she did not. But Galadriel knew so many things that Oloriel had stopped puzzling over them. She turned with light steps, and made her way back to her flet.

This night she was not afraid to go to sleep.

As she sank into her dreams, she found herself in a forest not unlike that of LothLorien. There were certain differences however. There seemed to be a pulsating, shimmer quality to the light as it danced across the golden leaves and the silver bows of the trees. Ripples of light slowly emanated from an unknown source along the ground. It was an utterly breathtaking effect. She stood still underneath the trees, this time in a silver dress that rippled around her and trailed along the ground.

For some minutes she stood in silence, taking in the beauty, but then she started to move slowly down a shimmering, pear-like path - a small tendril of the Olòrë Mallë, which weaves its way through the dreams of elves. Soon she turned off this path and walked down into a small glade, which was surrounded by flowering trees. 

A small stream ran through it, bubbling gently over pebbles and rocks. As she stared at her reflection in the stream, she began to feel like she was being watched. She looked up suddenly and froze. There, half concealed by one of the trees, stood her dream-elf - the same dark hair and eyes, unusual for an elf… but not at all unpleasant to look at. Their eyes locked for several moments, and then, with a ridiculously childlike urge, she darted away into the forest. She could hear him running after her and calling to her, but she kept running - she couldn't help it. She felt like a small child again, playing a game of tag. A joyful laugh rose up out of her throat as she sped away with him in hot pursuit. Behind her, she thought she could hear him laughing as well.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan grunted as the healer drew out the arrow in one quick movement.

"You're lucky this arrow wasn't poisoned." Said the graying healer, with a disdainful pucker on his face. "Quite cowardly, poison. To think that you should have the satisfaction of killing your enemy when your shot wasn't good enough to do it in the first place!"

Elladan tried to smile at the remark, but it came out more like a grimace. He gave up, and lay back on the pillow while the aging man bound up the wound on his arm.

The group of Rangers that he and his brothers had been travelling with encountered a group of orcs during their march that day. They were travelling along the western side of the Misty Mountains, north of Rivendell. Orcs had been festering there for many years. Elladan and Elrohir were travelling with the Rangers until their paths diverged - the Rangers heading west along the road, and the elves heading toward Rivendell, to report to their father.

They were now resting in the house of the old healer. This man, with at least some blood of the Dúnadan(2) running in his veins, was almost as stubborn about keeping orcs out of the land as the Rangers were. He lived on his own homestead in the wilderness, a day's journey from any village, and refused to be budged in the face of 'cursed orc invaders'. This was convenient for the Rangers, since his house provided a handy stopping point along their weary road.

Corin, one of the three Rangers they were travelling with, came in as the healer, already finished binding Elladan's wound, was instructing him to get some rest.

"He's right you know. I will set a watch tonight, but you need not concern yourself with that. Get all the sleep you need."

Elladan took the advice. For the first time that day he allowed himself to picture the green eyes that he had seen last night, and with this pleasant picture floating through his head, he drifted off to sleep.

He found himself in the same shimmering forest that Oloriel had encountered. Everything seemed to pulse with the same warm light. He was walking lazily underneath the trees, taking in their surreal beauty, when he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. He crept closer, and soon found himself gazing into a small open glade, with a stream running through it. And there, by the stream, stood the dream maiden. As he stared at her, he was struck again by her pensive beauty - and her deep eyes. They were no longer angry or desparing, but there was still a gentle sadness in them: a sadness very deep down, where it could just barely be seen beneath the brilliant stars in her eyes. 

He could have stared at her for much longer, but his perusal was cut short as she suddenly lifted her eyes to meet his, catching them in her gaze. For several moments they simply stood like this. Then, quite unexpectedly, she darted off into the forest. He stood there for a few seconds, and then did what seemed at the time the most natural thing in the world. He started running after her.

She seemed to be leading him on. She was always right ahead of him, but he never could catch her. He called out to her, but she kept running. He heard laughter bubbling out of her as she ran along the path, and suddenly a frenzied joy seemed to seize hold of him. He started laughing as well, and couldn't seem to help it. He was sure that he hadn't played a game of chase with his siblings in over a millenium, and it felt good to have the wind in his hair and to momentarily forget about the impropriety of chasing strange young maidens through golden woods.

As he came around the trunk of one of the larger trees he suddenly skidded to a halt. A few yards away, at the base of a tree, the girl was crouching down to look at a flower. It was pale blue, with a darker center, and a bubble bee, flashing gold, was busy at it work there.

The maiden began to softly sing a child's rhyme. Her voice was soft and mellow…

Light shines on the path, the sun creeps slowly by __

It cast the shadows underneath the trees

They days they pass, to soon they fly

As quickly as a busy bumble bee

The trees stand tall, the leave they fall

Thee snow falls soft upon the ground

The cold snows fade, new life is mad

In the flower the buzzing bee is found

She was silent for several moments, then spoke quietly - almost to herself, "Spring will always follow winter, and the bees will always find a flower to take joy in. That is a comforting thought, don't you think?" Oloriel inquired softly.

"It is indeed," agreed Elladan, "I believe that Eru has a plan for all things, and I don't think that he will ever forget to bring the spring, even after the harshest winter."

"Well today is the beginning of a new spring for me." She turned to him with shining eyes and a dazzling smile full of mirth. The mischievous twinkle in her eye should have warned him about what would happen next. Quick as a hare, she leapt up, gathered her skirt above the ground, and ran off again. Elladan gave an exasperated sigh, but was encouraged when she turned and called back to him, _"Tolo!"_(3)

He began to chase after her again, but still she eluded him. She was slowly leading him up an incline. Soon they burst from the tree line, and made their way up to the top of a ridge, that looked out over all of Middle-Earth. Just as she reached the edge of the high bluff he caught her, slipping his left arm tightly around her waist from behind. 

"You're not getting away this time," he whispered in her ear. 

She giggled softly, then replied, "I have no wish to - this is what I wanted to see." She swept her hand out along the horizon. There, along the wide expanse of green wove the pearly road of the Olórë Mallë. It is said that in Elven dreams, time and space do not matter, and that to wish yourself to another point along the path was enough to get you there. But the elf and maiden did not budge - they were both content to stay right where they were. They stood there for some time just taking in the glorious setting of the dream-sun. He still held her close with his left arm around her waist. 

Slowly she turned around, then she exclaimed, "What happened to your arm?"

Elladan looked down. His arm was still wrapped up in bandages. 'That's odd,' he thought, 'My physical injuries should not be with me in my dreams." He looked up at her, a perplexed look on his face. "I don't know why this is here."

Oloriel thought it strange that a spirit sent by the Valar to calm her dreams would, or even could, have an injury. But then it sparked an idea. Perhaps this was an opportunity to return kindness for kindness. She had no idea whether or not her knowledge as a healer would have any use in the dreamscape, but she decided it couldn't hurt to find out.

"Hold still," she told him gently.

She slowly undid the bandages, and then, holding his arm in her hand, began to chant soft words. _"Lasto an peth nín! Tog nestad, gwedham i harn; tog calad, ednasta i dúath!"_(4)

A soft blue glow emanated from under her hands. As she brought the words to a close she released her hands. Elladan touched his arm, then moved it, and realized that the pain and the wound were gone. Smiling up gently at him, she said, "That is a small token of my thanks."

Before he could ask her what she was thanking him for, the dream started to slip away. He tried to reach out to her, to hold her there, but she too slipped away. He woke up in the same small room that he had laid down in. 

The house was perfectly still - everything was at peace. He looked down at his arm and started. The bandages were no longer there - his injury was gone.

***

1. Oloriel's name means "dream daughter"

2. "Man of the West" - Numenorean

3. Tolo! = Come! (Sindarin)

4. "Listen to my word(s)! Bring healing, bind up the wounded; bring light, thrust out the shadow!" (Sindarin - translations from Hiswelókë's Sindarin Dictionary)

The "child's rhyme" was an original poem by me (Ilúvien).

Names to Know:

Oloriel: "dream daughter"

Írima: "desirable, lovely"

Kallindo: "noble heart"

Olórë Mallë: Path of Dreams

****

Arashi: I hope you liked this chapter… it's even longer than the other ones! Question: Do you mean that the stuff in the first chapter should have been shortened and not given it's own chapter? I can believe it, becase I do have the tendency to get lond winded on topics that I find immensely interesting but put everyone else to sleep! ; ) Hope this one is a keeper = )

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Stearchika: Glad you like Elladan… yeah, the quiet gentle – yet strong – types get you every time, don't they? It was really weird when I read a fic the other day and Elladan was the louder one – throws my brain for a loop, it does!

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Donna: I've finished chapter five already, but I'll take your suggestion about the guys in later chapters. Hey! Maybe I'll even write my own Elrohir fic next! = )

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Goblz: Glad you like my "banter". As I told Donna, I'l l try not to lose Elrohir in the soup, since he does bring the "fun-side" out of Elladan. Thanks for the encouragment! = )

Another A/N: Thanks to Blade-singer (Cathol-lin) of tolkienonline.com (go read her story "Legolas and the Olore Malle!) and 'Wandering Minds' of fanfiction.net for providing some sparks of inspiration! 

Now… review, Reivew, REVIEW!!!!!!!! Pretty please with pink sugar!

~Ilúvien~


	4. A Sleepless Night

Disclaimer: Don't own nuffin'… 'cept Oloriel and Kallindo… blah blah blah…

A/N: Two things you need to know about this story… 

1.) In this story elves are generally in some control of their dreams. 

2.) While I hold to the idea that Elves can see dream-images or shadows of other elves/people on the _Olórë Mallë_ (Path of Dreams), for purposes of this story they normally don't, and perhaps never do, actually meet others in their dreams. But something is going to happen in this story which is _not _normal.

Names/Pronunciations and any Translation will come at the end of each chapter. ( ) signals a footnote. 

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Lovely Reviewers: Look for responses at bottom of page.

________

Chapter 4: A Sleepless Night

***

__

"Was it a vision, or a waking dream?

Fled is the music: - do I wake or sleep?" - John Keats

***

Even Elladan's steady equilibrium was not immune to the shock of what had happened. His dream had come true; his arm was perfectly healed. He sat there for several minutes trying to sort things out. How could it have happened? Who was the lady? Was she a Maia(1) spirit? How else would she have that kind of power? 

No. He did not believe that the lady he met in his first dream - weeping and soaked to the skin - could be one of the Maia. A lesser spirit then? Perhaps…

He shook his head to clear it - too much to think about. He wrapped the bandages back around his arm so as not to arouse suspicion. He got up and poked his head into the other room. His brother was sleeping, eyes open and unfocused; the other Rangers, minus Corin, were also fast asleep with their eyes closed, as is the fashion of men. As he watched them, Corin stepped in from another door that led outside.

"Elladan!" he whispered accusingly, "I told you to get rest. You do not need to worry about the watch."

"Believe me, it is not of my own choosing that I am awake." Elladan replied dryly. 'In fact, I would have given anything to stay asleep.' he thought to himself. "You forget, Corin." he continued out loud, "The Eldar are not as frail as the Edain(1). I do not require any more rest at present. Have you just come in from your watch?

"Yes."

"I and my brother shall cover for the rest of the night. You know we do not require much sleep."

Corin looked doubtful for a moment. He wanted to deny Elladan his request. Elrohir and Elladan had both fought better than well during the skirmish with the orcs, and Corin would have liked to let them rest. But, as usually happened, he had to remind himself that these were Elves. 'I suppose he knows what he's about.' Corin mused. "Very well then," he finally agreed.

Elladan gave him a small smile, and then headed outside. The stars were beautiful, but as he sat puzzling out his many mysteries, he stared at the ground.

~~~

The stars were just beginning to fade when Elrohir made his way out to where his brother sat.

"Oh no, you're not tormenting the poor rocks again, are you?" Elrohir questioned with one of those mischievous smiles plastered across his face.

Elladan's thoughtful gaze rose to meet his brother's. "No, brother, my piercing glance has not bored its way through any unassuming pebbles tonight. All's right with the world."

"Aye, but at the moment I couldn't care less about the world - what about you? Are you still troubled with your secretive brooding, or are we swooning over dream maidens again?" 

"Not swooning, but thinking. Something happened last night, and I think you should know of it." Elladan looked behind him as Corin came out of the small house. "We will speak of this later."

Elrohir nodded in acceptance and the brothers turned to greet Corin. 

~~~

That evening Elladan and Elrohir parted ways with their company. They would now make straight to Imladris(3). Their mission had been of great importance, but they were returning home empty handed. They had been sent along the north path to search for some wandering halflings. Over a week ago, Mithrandir(4) had ridden into Imladris on the horse Shadowfax, and brought with him some sobering news. While he had been held prisoner in Isengard, the Nine Riders had been on the trail of the hobbit called Frodo, who carried the ring of power. If they had made it out of the Shire, Aragorn should have found them. But no one could be sure.

The twins had never met Frodo, but his uncle Bilbo had been residing in Imlardis for several years, and both of them held a soft spot in their heart for the little man. They therefore sent up prayers to the Valar for the safety of his nephew, and hoped that the other scouts would have better fortune in their search.

The brothers were now trekking along in silence. Moving swiftly through the well-known land, north of their home. Elrohir was ahead of Elladan. As he reached the top of a small ridge, he turned and called back, "Well, brother, we parted ways with the Rangers some hours ago; will you not speak your mind?" 

Elladan came up beside Elrohir and sighed. He did not quite know where to begin. He decided that speaking would not be as effective as showing. He unwrapped the bandages on his arm, rolled up his sleeve, and showed Elrohir, in the quickly dimming light, the perfectly healed skin where the arrow had pierced his forearm the night before. Elrohir's brow knit in confusion.

"That is where the arrow struck you, is it not?" Elrohir enquired.

"It is."

"Care to illuminate?"

Elladan chuckled, "I myself am confused, and I don't feel that I could provide much 'illumination', but I will tell you what I know. Elladan proceeded to recount his dream - all of it. He didn't like to keep things back from his brother, no matter how disconcerting it was to speak about the dream maiden.

Elladan whistled softly. "That is indeed a mystery, brother."

"I know that already. But can you not make anything else of it? Why would she do that for me? How could she do that for me?" 

"First of all, I think the emphasis that you are putting on 'she' is misplaced. The Valar send many messages by many messengers along the _Olórë Mallë_, but wether the package comes wrapped up in a green-eyed maiden or a bearded Dwarf doesn't seem to matter too much. I know I spoke in jest about it before, but I tell you this now, brother, in all seriousness: do not swoon over 'green eyes' - she's not really there."

Elladan came to a stop and looked over at his brother. For several moments he seemed to hear the haunting sound of her voice in his head… the rhyme that she had sung in his dream the night before. But he blocked the music out, and then replied in a soft whisper, "I know." He felt a small twinge in his heart as he admitted this. He tried to ignore it, and then dutifully buried it deep within his stoic exterior.

Elrohir and Elladan pressed on through the night; they did not stop to sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oloriel had watched with regret as the vision of the elf faded from her dream. 'Why did he leave?' she wondered. 'He reached out to me like he wanted to stay.' This puzzled her, but she could not search out an answer. She wandered along the path of dreams until the sun began to creep above the horizon.

Oloriel drifted softly back into the waking world. She sighed contentedly and snuggled deeper into the covers. She did not want to get up, and by the look of the light creeping into her room she still had a little time before she had to crawl out of bed.

She began to go over the events of her dream. It had been lovely. She had been pleasantly surprised at her success in healing the elf's wound. 

The elf. 

'I suppose I'll never see him again,' she murmured to herself. He had performed whatever duty he was sent to accomplish, and she had been able to show her appreciation in return. There was no reason for him to come back. For some reason this made her sad. For the second morning in a row she smiled at the thought of his arm around her. Oloriel groaned. 'Oh, don't be such a puppy!' she chided herself. It was _definitely_ time to get up.

Oloriel threw the covers back and went to the wash stand. She poured the clean, cool water from the pitcher into the basin, and then splashed her face with it. The cold water sent shivers down her spine. "I'm definitely awake now." she gasped. She turned to the mirror and blinked several times. She was looking better than she had for a while. The horrible dreams had been inflicting a higher toll on her, both mentally and physically, than she had allowed herself to admit. 'But no more,' she thought. 'My dreams will be filled with light again. It is a new spring for me.' 

She put on a light, rose-colored dress and then headed toward the Great Talan.

As she entered one of the open-air chambers, she saw the Lady in conference with one of the other artisans. Soon they ended their conversation and Galadriel turned to Oloriel with a smile.

"Good morning, Oloriel. And how did you sleep?" In her mind Oloriel continued to hear her. _//Did you find peace again, dream daughter?//_

Oloriel paused a moment. 'Does she know of my troubled dreams? I suppose that wouldn't be suprising.' Aloud she answered the Lady's spoken question. "Quite well, my Lady. So well that I was not eager to wake up this morning - the warm blankets were so very tempting!"

Galadriel nodded understandingly. "I felt that way myself this morning," she replied with a wistful smile, "But, duty always calls us back into the world of the living. Speaking of duties, I have a new one for you that may take away from your studies as a healer. Trouble is brewing in the lands outside of the Golden Wood. Not even the wise can see all ends, and we must be prepared. Celeborn has request that several of my handmaidens become more versed in the art of war. There may come a time when all will need to defend themselves. Since you have already started with Kallindo, I would like you to continue with him. He is an able warrior. You will study with him four days out of the week, and you may pursue your other interests whenever you are not with him. Is this acceptable to you?"

"I am at my Lady's command."

"Aye, you always have been." She paused. "Kallindo came this morning to-"

Oloriel looked up quickly. "I told Kallindo not -"

Galadriel raised her hand to stop the impending flow of words. "Be at peace child, Kallindo did not betray your trust. He merely said that he would come by after lunch to see if you were available. It was then that I asked him if he would undertake your training. He will come back for you in a few hours. But, until he arrives, let us speak of how your studies progress in the House of Healing."

~~~ 

"Ai! Much better, Oloriel! Your arrows are already flying with much more accuracy. I think your archery skills will require less polishing than your swordplay."

Oloriel and Kallindo had been sparring much of the afternoon, but toward the end of their session Kallindo requested that she try her hand at the bow, in order to see what skill she possessed.

Oloriel would have been rather pleased with his praise, had not his comment added to her growing suspicion that Kallindo was not quite at ease. "You called me Oloriel. Or, more importantly, you did _not _call me Aiwë. If my count is correct, that is only the third time that you have used my given name in the past seven hundred years or so. And the other two times were when you were angry at me for pushing you out of a tree, and for getting you in trouble with your father. What is wrong?"

Kallindo looked slightly uncomfortable. He had made certain resolutions the night before, and the general idea behind all of them was to make sure he didn't fall for Oloriel. He knew she didn't think of him that way, and he was trying to save himself a little heartache. Therefore, his manner had been somewhat distant toward her that day - he was not acting like his usual carefree self. "Oh... um, nothing - just a slip of the tongue I suppose."

Oloriel did not believe him, but she decided to let the matter rest. 

"Are we done for today?" she asked.

"I believe so. We will meet again tomorrow after lunch, if that is alright with you."

"Perfectly."

They both stood there for several moments in a slightly uncomfortable silence. 'What is wrong with him today?' Oloriel wondered. 'I have never seen him like this.' An idea popped into Oloriel's head then. She knew that she had a tendency to be a little reclusive, and Írima had told her a few days ago that she should spend more time with other people. What better opportunity to practice then on her friend, who definitely looked as though he could use some cheering up?

"It is far too early to head back home," she said, with her eyes raised to the still light sky. "There is nothing to do there, for I have finished the book I was reading, and Írima was very rebellious, and did all the laundry before I could offer to help her. I thought that I would take a walk under the golden leaves." she lowered her eyes back down to his. "Won't you join me?"

Kallindo's head told him that this would not be wise. 'But,' he reminded himself, 'How often do I actually listen to my head!'

"I am at the lady's command." he declared as he held his arm out to her... and he was pleasantly surprised when she actually took it. They started walking down a small, worn path, leading through the silver-gray trunks of the mallorn trees. 

'How shall I cheer him up?' Oloriel questioned herself. She decided that she would never really find out until she started talking to him. 'But what to say?' She decided to start on safe, neutral teritory.'

"I wanted to thank you for your care of me. It was very kind of you to offer to help with my training the first day, and also kind to agree to continue with it."

Kallindo smiled slightly. "I'm still trying to sort that out by the way."

"Sort what out?"

"Why you agreed to let me help you, of course. I was rather surprised that you did. You're always so self-reliant, or at least trying to be, and I wouldn't expect you to accept help from anyone if you could avoid it. Of course, I still had to try." he finished with a small, mischievous grin.

Oloriel returned his smile, "Yes - you always try. Sometimes you can be quite annoying, you know: always popping up unexpectedly and trying to help me when I don't need any help. But I suppose I'll forgive you." She poked him playfully in the ribs, "To answer your question; well, I'm not entirely sure. I suppose you caught me at a good moment. I had a very peaceful dream the night before, and it colored my whole day for the better. I was in a very good mood."

"No, Aiwë, you can't blame it on the dream. All Elven dreams are peaceful, are they not? Why should this one be any different."

A small shadow passed over Oloriel's features. "No Kallindo, not all dreams are peaceful - I know. That is what made this dream so wonderful. It did not frighten me."

Kallindo came to a halt, and drew her around to face him. "Have you had your own secret troubles, Aiwë? You're always so calm, no one would guess. What dreams could have troubled you so? You sounded quite grave when you spoke of it."

"So grave that I do not want to speak of it any more. They were terrible. But now they are gone. That's the end of it."

"And what brought this change, do you think?"

Oloriel hesitated, "Well... if you must know, I believe that the Valar answered my prayer and brought peace to them. I dreamed that an elf came and protected me from the storm, and since then my sleep has been untroubled."

Kallindo took a few moments to digest this. "Do you think there was some meaning behind all this? Did the elf bring a message?"

Oloriel had never considered that there would be meaning outside of the actual events. "Well, there certainly was no message in the first dream - the elf never spoke. But in the second dream -"

"You saw the same elf again?"

"Yes - last night. And I do remember him saying something that struck me. He said that Eru had a plan for everything, and that he would always bring the spring - even after the harshest winter. Do you think that could be a message?"

Kallindo thought for a moment. "Perhaps." he said, and started to guide her back down the paths.

Kallindo's mind was churning. What if the elf in her dream had been a foretelling of what was to come? What if the winter that had surrounded her heart since her brother died was destined to give way to the spring? What if he was there when it happened? Suddenly all his well-intentioned resolutions flew out of the window. He spent the next hour strolling under the Golden Wood, glowing with hope, and basking in the warmth of the woman walking next to him.

~~~ 

"Well, I suppose I must bid the lady goodnight." Kallindo smiled down at Oloriel as they came to the entrance of her flet. They had been walking for over an hour, and the sun was beginning to tinge the clouds with red.

"Indeed, I believe it will be a good night. It couldn't be anything but after such a lovely evening." Oloriel replied with her head tilted up toward him. She was very pleased with herself. She was not sure how she had accomplished the feat, but Kallindo seemed to be in much better spirits.

Suddenly her complacent expression was marred by the hint of a frown; her eyes seemed to cloud over. She was hearing voices in her mind. First there was a male voice... _//I tell you this now, brother, in all seriousness: do not swoon over 'green eyes' - she's not really there.//_ …Then came a second voice, strangely familiar... _//I know//_ As the voices faded she felt a small ache in her heart. She gasped and started to fall; Kallindo caught her before she reached the ground.

"What is it?" He asked her urgently.

"I... I do not know." she replied, her voice unsteady and faltering. "I believe that it is passed."

Oloriel straightened up and released herself from Kallindo's embrace. She tried to give him a reassuring smile - she knew that he would try to make a fuss over her. But before he had the chance to do so, one of the other healers came to a halt underneath her flet and called up breathlessly, "Oloriel, come! Írima has begun to give birth. We need help, and she wants you with her. Come to Írima's flet! Quickly!"

Oloriel looked back at Kallindo in shock. "This is too soon! It's too soon - she should not be birthing so early. I must go!"

With that she raced off, all thoughts of the strange voices pushed far into the back of her mind. 

***

1. The Maiar are powerful spirits/beings, but not as powerful as the Valar. Gandalf is a Maia who took human form.

2. Edain: Sindarin for Humans (Human race?)

3. Imladris: Sindarin for Rivendell 

4. Mithrandir: Sindarin for Gandalf

Names to Know:

Oloriel: "dream daughter"

Aiwë: Kallindo's nickname for Oloriel – meaning "small bird"

Írima: "desirable, lovely"

Kallindo: "noble heart"

Olórë Mallë: Path of Dreams

****

bratprincess: Don't apologize for being weird – we're all weird!!! **hops up and down giggling** … see, what did I tell you? Too much sugar, that's what that is… Anyhoo, I hope you're happy. You reviewed so now you get to read more so that you can review and read more and review and read more… ah, the vicous cycle… hope you enjoy it. = )

****

Dreamstrifer: Yowsers… I just got done reading your "Fresca Files" (which were **hilarious,** btw…), and when I saw this review I said to myself, "That name sounds soooo familiar…" and then it hit me – eureka! Glad you like what you've read so far. Hope I can keep it up…

****

goblz: I have definitely got the "very intriguing" comment quite a few times (I had these chapters up on tolkienonline.com before I put them here)… it'a okay to be redundant as long as you still like it! Hope you find this chapter equally intriguing…

Thanks to Blade-singer (Cathol-lin) of tolkienonline.com (go read her story "Legolas and the Olore Malle!) and 'Wandering Minds' of fanfiction.net for providing some sparks of inspiration! 

Now please, PLEASE review! I've never claimed to own my own muse, so I must get my inspiration and encouragement from another source! Come one... you know you want to... = ) 

~Ilúvien~


	5. A Restless Night

Disclaimer: I do not own Elladan, the Olórë Mallë, or the song by Enya… darn…

A/N: Two things you need to know about this story… 

1.) In this story elves are generally in some control of their dreams. 

2.) While I hold to the idea that Elves can see dream-images or shadows of other elves/people on the _Olórë Mallë_ (Path of Dreams), for purposes of this story they normally don't, and perhaps never do, actually meet others in their dreams. But something is going to happen in this story which is _not _normal.

Names/Pronunciations and any Translation will come at the end of each chapter. ( ) signals a footnote. 

_____________

Chapter 5.) A Restless Night

***

__

"Dreams, inconsistent angel things,

_Horses bred with star-laced wings, but it's so hard to make them fly."_

- Sixpence None the Richer (band)

***

Oloriel smiled warmly down on the new elfling, asleep in her mother's arms. Írima's labor had not been without difficulty, and had taken several hours, but mother and child had both come through safe and happy. The birthing had ended just as the sun was creeping above the horizon. It was now the evening of the same day, and Oloriel had returned from her training to look in on the new family.

Oloriel gently traced the small pointed ear of the child. "She is so beautiful, Írima – you have out-done yourself! I will have immense fun spoiling this one." She smiled devilishly.

Írima laughed. "Oh no you shall not. You were so very strict about not letting me over-work myself these past months I wouldn't be surprised if you turned into this child's second mother and protector. You will always, I am sure, catch her when she is in mischief – you have a nose for that - and you'll probably be more anxious over her care than her own parents!"

As she said this, the other parent walked into the room. Nimfallë, Írima's husband, was the glowing image of proud parenthood. He lovingly kissed his wife on the forehead and then gently took his new daughter up in his arms. 

"Have you decided on a name?" inquired Oloriel.

"Nay, we decided that we would take a few days to get to know her before we decided on a name." Nimfallë responded. Írima smiled up at him and smiled her affirmation.

"Well, I will leave you two to get to know her then." Oloriel declared cheerfully. The sun had already gone down, and she was ready for sleep. She walked slowly back to her flet. 

On her way there she recalled the story of on her own naming. Her parents had also waited to name her; it had taken a whole month in fact. Just enough for Oloriel's mother, who had lost much strength because of the pregnancy, to decide that she had not enough strength left for Middle Earth. She took a ship into the west – to seek healing and peace in the Undying Lands. Her parents then chose to name their daughter Oloriel – dream daughter. "Because I will dream of her until the day that we meet again in Valinor," her mother had said. 

But her mother had not been the only one to dream of being reunited with a loved one. Her father pined after his wife, and when Oloriel was old enough to enter into the service of Galadriel, he too left for the Undying lands to reunite with her. And Oloriel was left alone.

Oloriel paused below her flet. A spark of jealousy ignited in her momentarily. She envied the new child; she envied Írima and Nimfallë. They were all together, all happy and strong. She felt very alone.

Suddenly she came back to reality, she mentally scolding herself for her selfish thoughts. She was happy for them – happy for what they had. Írima had always been a true friend, and Oloriel would never forget her kindness. No doubt she would, as Írima had pointed out, become like a second mother to the child. She would get a sweet taste of what it would be like to be a family.

She smiled softly and climbed up to her flet. She felt a peacefulness steal over her as she nestled under the covers. Soon she fell asleep.

She found herself sitting on a beach beneath the moonlight. The waters stretching out before her came gently lapping to her feet. The beauty and somberness of the dreamscape began to seep into her. She began to sing a song of the night, of the stars, and of love. She had never truly been in love, but the feeling of the song had always touched her. As she sang she became oblivious to everything else but the music and the stars above her. She did not here the approaching footsteps.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan looked blankly out on the lovely view before him. He was standing on his balcony, in his own room at Imladris. They had arrived just a few hours ago along with Aragorn and three hobbits: Merry, Pippin, and Samwise. Elladan and Elrohir had arrived at the Ford just as the Nine Riders were swept away by the rushing waters of the Bruinen(1). The hobbit, Frodo, had been taken ahead to Imladris on Glorfindel's horse, Asfaloth. He was now in the care of Elrond himself. No one knew yet if Frodo could be saved from the injury he had received at the hand of one of the Nine, but there was hope.

'Hope for Frodo, perhaps hope for Middle Earth, but what of me?' Elladan muttered to himself. He had the vague suspicion that he was allowing himself to throw an uncalled for pity party, but he didn't have the mental or emotional strength to fight it off. 

Down in the courtyard he could see a group of Elves in animated conversation; in the hallway he could here the hustle and bustle of preparations for guests; he could imagine the group of Elves that had congregated in Elrohir's room to welcome home their friend. But his room was empty. Oh, we could have gone into one of the gathering rooms - he could be down in the courtyard right now - but he felt as if his presence would only interfere with everyone else. He mused on the possibilities...

'If I walked up to that cluster of Elves they would probably just step aside to clear a path for me, assuming that I wanted to get past them. Once they realized I had come to be with them there would be a general stream of pleasant nothings, then perhaps an uncomfortable pause, and one by one they would excuse themselves.' Elladan sighed heavily. 

He didn't blame them. They would go to be with people they knew and enjoyed - this was natural. He felt as though most Elves his age did not relax well around him; that he engendered great respect from them, perhaps even an austere love, but not true friendship. He usually mixed with the elders, assuming a mask of sedate wisdom, but underneath he still felt rather lonely.

When his mother left for Valinor, Elladan had taken a more serious role upon himself. He was the eldest among his siblings (even if it was just by a few minutes with Elrohir); he felt that he had to be there for them. It was during these years that he began to drift away from his peers and become more solitary. He poured everything he had into bringing comfort to his brother and sister that he did not have much left to comfort himself. Elladan made himself appear so strong through this time, that even Elrond forgot to worry about him, and instead began to rely on him to help with the other two. Elladan kept up his mask permanently. He never sought comfort from his friends - he had to be strong. After some time he began to feel that his friends couldn't understand who he was or what was inside of him. Then he began to convince himself that he couldn't understand his friends. The only people that he kept close to were his family. 

But his family was not enough. Elrond was his father, not always his friend. Elrohir, on the other hand, was his closest friend, but Elorhir was everyone's friend. When at home he felt guilty for drawing his brother away from his many more cheerful companions. And Arwen... Arwen would not be with him forever. She had chosen their foster brother, Aragorn – a mortal. He would lose her eventually.

"I am alone." he whispered to the air. 

"No, Elladan. No, you never were."

Elladan started. Arwen had crept up behind him as he was taking in the view.

"Why do you not come down to the Hall of Fire?" Arwen continued, "Many are there who would like to see you and welcome you home."

"I do not think I would be wanted much." Elladan mumbled.

"You were always wrong about that you know. You are such a silly boy."

Elladan turned to her, a small prick of indignation dancing in his eye, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"It's quite simple really - I thought _you_ would be clever enough to decipher it. It means that you are acting like a silly little elf-ling. You go hunt orc, you ride the borders, you wander with the Rangers, you spend all this time away from your kind and then when you come home you lock yourself away in your room and moan about how the world hates you. Why? Because you're frightened."

Elladan snorted and turned away from her.

"Yes you are," she continued, "Frightened to go talk to normal people. Because you've convinced yourself that they won't like you or that they won't understand you. You've been held up in this room so long that you've started to believe that everyone wants you here. What you don't remember is that you were the one who shut yourself in here in the first place. You turned the key, brother, and only you can unlock the door."

She placed her hand on his shoulder and gently turned him around.

"I've seen you doing this to yourself for too many centuries. I thought that you would learn. But the world grows darker outside these four walls, and time is precious." She lowered her eyes from his face, "... And not just for me, but for everyone else on this side of the Sundering Sea. In times like these people should not shut themselves away. Come." She took his hand, "Come and be with your people. More of them care about you than you know - come be with them."

Elladan stared down at his sister for several moments. She was so beautiful. And yet, because of her love for a mortal, her beauty was destined to fade. Her time was precious. Perhaps she had something to teach him about living. He squeezed her hand gently and smiled down at her, then allowed her to lead him out of his room and back into the world.

~~~ 

Elladan flopped rather ungracefully down onto his bed. A faint smile threatened to curl the corners of his mouth. He had actually enjoyed himself. He had not talked with many of the Elves, but he had enjoyed being in their company. They had been so gay and comfortable and... welcoming. And being near Arwen was always soothing.

"Perhaps she is right," he sighed, "...as usual." His mouth finally gave way into a real smile. "She's always right; it's the most infuriating thing."

The stars were peaking in through his window. Normally he would have stood out in the open underneath them, but tonight he was tired. He crawled underneath the cool sheet and soon his mind drifted into the path of dreams….. 

A cool breeze sifted through his dark hair. He was standing under the eaves of a forest, looking out on the eerie glow of a sandy beach in the moonlight. He had never seen the sea, but this could well be it. The water stretched out further than his Elven eyes could see. The stars above it pulsated, and their reflection in the water was even more scintillating.

His gaze was drawn away from the water as he began to hear the words of a song floating to him across the sand. Only then did he realize that there was a figure near the water, away to his right. It was the same she-elf, dressed in dark blue, like the night sky. She was crouched down on the sand, her legs drawn up, and her arms wrapped loosely around them. Her face was lifted up to the stars. She sang softly…

__

Once when my heart remembers

All the stars were fallen embers

Once when night seemed forever I was with you

Once in the pale of morning

In the air was all belonging

Once when that day was dawning I was with you

How far we are from morning

How far we are

And the stars shining through the darkness

Falling in the air

Once when the night was leaving

Into us our dreams were weaving

Once all dreams were worth keeping

I was with you

Once when our hearts were singing

I was with you

As the plaintive notes of the song came to a gentle end, the maiden let herself fall back onto the sand. Elladan was only a few steps away from her now; he had crept up slowly while she was singing.

"That was beautiful, Aiwë." he whispered.

She sat up quickly and spun around. "What did you call me?"

"Aiwë. I have never learned your name, and it seemed fitting. You looked so small and... vulnerable, sitting there, wrapped up in yourself. Like a small bird that was alone in a very large world, but couldn't help singing anyway." Elladan was a little surprised at his own boldness. 'Where did that come from?' he wondered. He quickly added out loud, "If it does not suite you, I will not call you it again."

"No, it's alright. It's just that this is not the first time someone has called me that."

There was a pause for several moments.

Elladan broke the silence, "Thank you."

She turned to him questioningly, and he pointed to his arm. She smiled slightly and inclined her head in acceptance.

"How did you do it?"

She paused and met his eyes, "I do not know."

Elladan was puzzled by her answer, but did not question further. They lapsed again into a comfortable silence, both looking out on the placid sea.

"Why did you come back?" she asked softly, without turning toward him.

He chuckled softly. "Well, I didn't have much choice. Even an Elf has to sleep sometime."

Her eyes darted quickly to his face. "What do you mean?"

He smiled in a bemused manner. "Surely you understand the concept of sleep. Those of us who walk Arda cannot do without it."

"I understand the concept of sleep," she replied impatiently, "I experience it every night – I am experiencing it now. But why are you in my dream? You cannot simply be an Elf."

Elladan's eyes widened and he sank slowly down onto the sand next to her. "And you – you are simply an Elf? But that cannot be. This is my dream."

They stared at one another in shocked silence. Then Oloriel's word started pouring out.

"No… no, that is not possible… if you are just an Elf than how did you calm the storm?… you could not have calmed the storm… it is impossible!" Her eyes were taking on a wild look; she leapt up off the sand and started pacing. "If you are not a spirit sent by the Valar than the nightmares are not gone… they will return and there is nothing I can do… nothing I can do… oh, what is happening to me!"

As she spoke clouds started to form on the horizon, she gazed at them with growing fear. "No! It is coming… I can't get away!" She began to feel an aching pain inside her. She crumpled onto the sand. Elladan began to be aware of lighting along the horizon, out on the sea. He heard the distant rumblings of thunder. The cloud front, dark and menacing, was quickly approaching the shore. Wind started to whip madly around them.

Oloriel was holding her head now. She was gasping for breath as she continued to murmur and writhe in the sand. "No… I can't get away… oh take it away… I can't run any more." Lightening began to flash much closer to them. She became more agitated, her voice becoming louder each moment, "Take it away! It hurts… make it stop please…" She began to sob, as the pain in her head sharpened.

Meanwhile, Elladan looked on helplessly. He had no concept of how to deal with this situation. He felt utterly useless. As he stood there the rain came, slashing violently around them. In seconds they were both soaked to the bone. Oloriel was still moaning in the sand.

He had to do something; he couldn't just watch her suffer like this. He did the only thing that he could think of. 'After all, it worked once before,' he reasoned. He knelt down beside her and gathered her up in his arms. He began rocking her gently, and whispering soothing words in her ear. For several minutes she seemed oblivious to his voice, but then slowly she began to listen.

"…_Lle ú-ná erui_… _i_ _môr gwannatha_… _I fuin ú-tha vedui an-uir_… _Im beriatha lle_…" she raised her head and looked at him through her tears; he held her gaze. "_Amin_ _na_ _lle – im dartha_." (2)

As he said this, the storm began to subside. He continued to rock her gently, and started to rub her back in slow, smooth circles. The pain had started to abate, and her crying became less frantic. She shuddered, and he drew her closer, thinking that perhaps she was cold. She stiffened slightly, but then slid her arm around his neck and quietly wept against his shoulder.

After what seemed like an eternity, she slowly disentangled herself from his arms. She straightened up and shifted away from him, sitting rather stiffly on the wet sand. Her dress was drenched and clung to her, and her hair was a tangled mess, but she tried to look dignified. She slowly turned to look at Elladan; He returned her gaze. Both of their minds were churning.

'I cannot trust him or his words; he is just an Elf. This is all an accident. I must endure on my own.' Oloriel's heart and mind were quickly throwing up walls. 'Ai! All the foolish things I've done. He must think me quite… well… odd.' She never stopped to ask herself why she cared what he thought of her.

Elladan was chiding himself as well. 'This is unendurable. I have a she-elf… a very lovely she-elf inhabiting my dreams. She cannot be real – she must be of my imagining. But what if she is real? I chased her through the wood… I held her around the waist! It was entirely too forward – what was I thinking? What must she think? How was I to know she was real?'

They were still staring at each other. Oloriel finally broke the silence. She stood up, turned toward him, held out her hand, and did what seemed most appropriate – she introduced herself. "Oloriel, daughter of Alkarin and Maldalossë of LothLorien, handmaiden to the Lady Galadriel."

A queer look came over Elladan's face. He slowly rose to his feet, took the hand that she proffered him, bowed slightly, and replied, "Elladan, son of Elrond and Celebrian of Rivendell, grandson… to the Lady Galadriel."

Oloriel's eyes widened in surprise. 'Elladan! Why does it have to be him!' she wondered frantically. She curtsied as well as she could in wet sand and began to walk off. Elladan was not sure if he should follow her. He took a few hesitant steps in her direction, but then she turned back and spoke.

"Thank you for your assistance, Elladan son of Elrond; I am very grateful for it. But I do not require your presence any more. I would be grateful if you would give me as much privacy as possible. I need to think – I need to be alone."

Elladan was not sure if this was wise, but would not think of forcing his presence on a lady.

"As the Lady wishes, so shall it be." He nodded politely at her, and then watched her stroll off along the beach until she was only a soft shadow, blending into the curtain of night.

*** 

1. The River Bruinen (The Loudwater in common tongue); western border of Imladris/Rivendell

2. (Sindarin) "You are not alone… the darkness will pass… the night will not last forever… I will protect you…" "I am with you – I will stay."

Names to Know:

Oloriel: "dream daughter"

Aiwë: Kallindo's nickname for Oloriel – meaning "small bird"

Írima: "desirable, lovely"

Nimfallë: "white foam"

Alkarin: "glorious" … a little protentious, perhaps, but it sounded good!

Maldalossë: "gold blossom"

Olórë Mallë: Path of Dreams

Thanks to Blade-singer (Cathol-lin) of tolkienonline.com (go read her story "Legolas and the Olore Malle!) and 'Wandering Minds' of fanfiction.net for providing some sparks of inspiration! 

Now please, PLEASE review! I've never claimed to own my own muse, so I must get my inspiration and encouragement from another source! Come one... you know you want to... = ) 

~Ilúvien~ 


	6. Back to Reality

Disclaimer: oh give me a break… see previous chapters.

A/N: Two things you need to know about this story… 

1.) In this story elves are generally in some control of their dreams. 

2.) While I hold to the idea that Elves can see dream-images or shadows of other elves/people on the _Olórë Mallë_ (Path of Dreams), for purposes of this story they normally don't, and perhaps never do, actually meet others in their dreams. But something is going to happen in this story which is _not _normal.

Names/Pronunciations and any Translation will come at the end of each chapter. ( ) signals a footnote.

_____________

Chapter 6.) Back to Reality

***

__

"And night by night, down into solitude

The heavy earth falls far from every star."

- Rainer Maria Rilke

***

Recap: Oloriel and Elladan have each just discovered that the other one is real. After another 'nightmare' episode, Oloriel has asked Elladan to give her some privacy. She is walking lone in the dreamscape… or is she? 

~~~

Oloriel had been walking along the beach for several minutes. She finally turned back, but could not see any sign of the elf that haunted her dreams. Her mind had been churning relentlessly. What do you do when an elf… a handsome elf… a handsome elf who is of nobble lineage… drops into your dreams? 'I cannot even begin to unravel this puzzle.' She shook her head sadly. 

She felt so self-conscious, so insecure… 'What am I supposed to do with him?' she wondered, 'And why did it have to be _him_?'

She had met Elladan once. It had been when she was still rather young; just a few days after her father had departed for the Undying Lands….

__

She had been trying to put a good face on everything, but one afternoon she collapsed in on herself. She had to get away. She wandered into the woods beyond the city and found a dear old tree with welcoming branches. She climbed up into it and found her favorite nook to sit in, between the bough and large trunk of the tree. She sat down, resting her head against the smooth bark of the tree, with her legs dangling over one side of the branch, and allowed her tears to begin flowing. She missed her father terribly. And she would not see him again for hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years. 

When she climbed up into the tree she had been so caught up in her grief that she did not notice the presence already in it. She still had not noticed, as she sat there weeping, until a dark-haired male elf, looking to be near her age, jumped down from above onto the branch where she was sitting. Her head flew up and then quickly she covered her tear-stained face with her hands. For several moments neither one spoke or moved.

Finally, the young elf crept slowly toward her along the branch. He sat down next to her and again allowed silence to reign. She had been holding in her tears behind her hands all this while, but she couldn't control them forever. They began to flow once more, and she could not keep her shoulders from shaking slightly as she wept. 

Gently, the strange elf placed his arm around her shoulder and drew her to him. For some inexplicable reason she did not pull away; she just wept on his shoulder. They sat like this for some time. Slowly her tears began to abate; as they did the elf slowly released her. Eventually she regained control and, wiping her eyes of the last remaining moister, turned to him and said, "I am sorry. You must think me rather silly – weeping like a child."

Elladan (for that is who it was, if you haven't guessed by now) flashed her an odd grin, "Oh no, I'm all for crying – makes your hair grow."(1)

Young Oloriel was caught off guard by this remark and could not help smiling at the odd notion. Elladan's grin widened in return.

Before anything more could be said they were interrupted by Karnélas, Oloriel's older brother.

"There you are Oloriel, I thought I'd find you here. And who is with you?" He peered up into the branches, "Ah, good afternoon my young lord Elladan."

It was that one comment that snapped Oloriel out of her improved mood. "Elladan!" she cried out, bewildered. 'Why, he is the grandson of the Lady of Light; he is heir to the holder of Vilya(2); he is…' she could think on it no further, in a flurry of skirts she leapt out of the tree and ran off before either one could stop her.

Ever after that Oloriel would make herself scarce whenever the sons of Elrond would visit their grandmother in the Golden Wood. She felt ashamed and embarrassed… not only because she had cried in front of (and on) a stranger, but because that stranger was so far above her in station. She could not imagine what he must think of her…

Oloriel shook herself back to reality. She had, yet again, cried helplessly on the shoulder of Lord Elladan. Her only hope was that Elladan would not remember her; it had after all been over a millennium since the other incident. 'But still, I can _never_ face him again… not now.' she thought. And yet, where was she to go? "The Valar take him, he is in my mind!" she yelled, lifting her hands up in exasperation. 

She suddenly froze. She thought that she had heard something away to her right in the trees. She stared into their murky depths for several minutes, but could find nothing, until… 

Her brows knitted slightly in consternation. She slowly turned and began again to walk down the beach.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan would certainly not force his presence on any lady, but neither did he feel comfortable with leaving her alone – not after what had just happened. 'After all, she may need my help again.' he thought. This is how he rationalized sneaking into the forest and trailing her along the beach after she had slipped away into the darkness.

He kept just close enough to see the outline of her form, but could not see much detail. He would have liked to get closer, but his honor would not allow it. Keeping close enough to watch over her was one thing; getting closer just so he could to examine her features was an entirely different proposition.

As he watched her slowly advancing form his mind began to wander back to their other encounters. He did remember the young she-elf from all those years ago, and knew that this dream-maiden was the same one. 

After she had run off those many years ago he had learned of her plight from Karnélas. He had been even more certain that he had done the right thing in trying to comfort her when he learned why she was crying. It had been only a few years after his mother had passed into the West, and he could identify with what the girl was feeling. He determined that he would try to cheer her up. However, he did not see her again while he was visiting his grandmother. And ever after, whenever he came to the Golden Wood, nothing could be found of her. He had never asked his grandmother or Oloriel's brother about her whereabouts because he didn't feel very comfortable explaining his reason. How could he tell them that he wanted to find a girl who he'd never talked to so that he could try to ease her of a burden that he felt so keenly himself? That would be letting his guard down. After several centuries he had finally given up the search.

Elladan sighed, 'After all these years I have finally found her… but of all the ways to become re-acquainted!' He found the whole situation to be slightly absurd. 

Just has he was thinking this is attention was grabbed by Oloriel, face upturned to the stars declaring loudly, "The Valar take him, he is in my mind!" He was stunned at first, but then her words, mixed with his musings, struck him in such a way that he could not help letting out a small chuckle. 

He froze his movement and held in his breath. Oloriel's body had stiffened. She turned slowly and began to scan the woods. She looked pointedly in his direction, and he thought that he had been discovered, but when she turned and resumed her stroll down the beach he allowed himself to slowly release the breath he had been holding. 

'Smooth, Elladan, very smooth.'

*~*~*~*~*~*

Oloriel was irritated that Elladan had broken his word and not respected her wishes. She was not a naïve elf – she knew when she was being watched. She let out another exasperated sigh. What was she to do with him? For several moments she contemplated taking up nocturnal habits… 'Perhaps if I sleep all morning, practice with Kallindo in the afternoon, and stay up all night I can avoid him'… but she soon gave up the idea. People would start to wonder, and more importantly, Lady Galadriel would come to know, why she did as she did. Above all, Oloriel did not want Galadriel to know. She felt that the Lady would see something inappropriate in the whole affair. 

A sudden wave of deep indignation welled up in her. Why him; why now; why did he not leave her alone? If she had had some privacy she would have taken the opportunity to indulge in a blood-curdling scream. Or perhaps she would have picked up her skirts and made a mad dash across the sand, running until she could hardly draw in breath. But instead she continued to walk placidly along, weighed down by the eyes of the hidden elf. She began to feel even more self-conscious. This only stoked the anger in her.

'What right has he to follow me? He has no right at all. All I asked for was some privacy – is this too much to ask? I think not. What does he mean by it?'

In a huff she ungracefully sat back down on the sand. 'It is no use trying to get away I suppose.' She tried to ignore his elusive presence, and turned again to her thoughts and worries.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan was determined to be more careful in his surveillance. Although he had justified his actions in his own mind, he did not relish the prospect of having to explain himself to the maiden.

The maiden. What _was_ he to do about her? Although he had never truly admitted it to his brother, he had been in danger of becoming overly 'intrigued' with the maiden. Therefore, his brother's warning to him had shown both great perception and great wisdom, and Elladan had been determined to follow it – he would not to swoon over 'green-eyes'.

But now everything was confused. Apparently she was real. His reason rebelled against this idea but could not with surety reject it. He tried to convince himself that it was all some mistake – a trick played on him by his own mind – but it wasn't working. There she was, walking along the beach, seeming just as real as anything he had ever experienced and claiming the name of someone he knew existed. 

He watched her closely as she continued at her slow pace. She moved gracefully, even though hampered by yards of soaking cloth. Her hair was half-dried by now and was waving around her waist. Despite her soggy condition she still held and aura about her. The dream-stars seemed to direct their light at her and for her, enveloping her in a soft glow. In all her wetness she was still enchanting. He sighed softly.

'The question is,' he asked himself, 'does the fact that she is real change anything?' 

As he pondered this question, he saw her flop down onto the sand in a huff. His eyebrows raised, 'So much for graceful.' The corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly in a suppressed smile. But he soon brought himself back to the issue at hand.

Here was a maiden who he had never really known, who resided in another realm, who might well be attached, and who appeared to want nothing to do with him. Swooning was still very much out of the question.

'And yet, she may still need my help.' Perhaps she was in trouble. She certainly appeared to be suffering. 'But what can I do?' He clenched and unclenched his fist tensely. He had no idea.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

She had been gazing at the stars for several minutes. Her mind was still reeling, and her skin was still crawling with the felt presence of the unseen elf. She pushed him out of her mind. 'I shall just ignore him,' she resolved. 

She turned her face back up to the stars. They were much larger and brighter than normal stars and they seemed to flicker and pulse, covering the inky sky in a dazzling veil of light. She smiled up at them. She was puzzled by it all. 'I thought dreams were here to help our minds find peace and rest.' She mused sarcastically. She let out yet another sigh – they were coming quite naturally to her now – she flopped back on the sand and let her thoughts slip out into words, "How can something so beautiful be so confusing?"

She quickly sat back up; her hand flew to her mouth. She had not meant to say that out loud. She wondered if the elf had been listening. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan had been sitting silently leaning against a tree, watching the she-elf. He could not help it. He tried to think on other things, to gaze at other things, but his mind and eyes kept wandering back to her. She was now lying down on the sand.

He still did not know what to do with her. 'What if this keeps going? Will I always have to watch out for her? How long can I keep up a silent guard?' His fingers nervously played with the edge of his tunic. 'How can someone so beautiful be so confusing?'

He was extremely startled when he heard her echo his thoughts almost exactly. _"How can something so beautiful be so confusing?" _

He saw her sit back up quickly, her hand flying to her mouth, and suddenly he knew… he knew that she knew he was watching her. He groaned inwardly.

He made a quick decision. If he couldn't make out this mystery on his own then he would just have to enlist her help. He slowly stepped out of the forest.

"How long have you known?" he asked.

She was still facing away from him so Elladan did not see her as she rolled her eyes. "I had always imagined that Elrond's heir would have more skill than a dwarf when it came to stalking innocent maidens. Oh wait – I forget myself…I suppose that the stalking of innocent maidens would not have been deemed an appropriate past-time for a prince." She slowly turned around to face him, meeting him eye to eye. "Do you blame this bad habit on corrupting influences or on your own stupidity?"

Elladan tried not to cringe. "I deserved that, didn't I?" he asked a little sheepishly.

"Need you ask?" 

"Perhaps not, but – " 

"But you have no inclination to bend your will to the demands of honor? I suppose that would be rather bothersome for royalty such as you. To be forced to keep your word… how terribly inconvenient."

"I think that is a little unfair." Elladan knew that he was not fully blameless, but he did not feel that he had done anything truly wrong either. "I do not believe that I have broken with the principles of honor. You asked me to give you as much privacy as possible. I do not fully understand what it is you just suffered, but after such an experience I could not in good conscious just let you wander off. I intended to watch over you, nothing more."

"Watch so closely that you could eavesdrop?" she arched an eyebrow at him, "You were very close just now – I could feel you. Why, you were practically breathing down my neck! You could have at least stated your intentions instead of creeping around in the darkness like some fell creature."

Elladan tried not to become aggravated, "A lapse of judgement on my part, lady. It will not happen again."

"What will not happen again – your lapses in judgement? From what I have seen of you I highly doubt that."

Oloriel was shocked at how forward she was being, but she couldn't seem to help it. It all just came spilling out of her. She had let her walls down with this elf when she thought that he was an illusion, now she had to use all her power to push him back out and build the walls right back up.

Elladan was getting frustrated. He thought that he had explained himself as well as he could. The notion of asking forgiveness and rolling with the punch did not occur to him as he became more wrapped up in his own cause. Here was yet another elf, who didn't seem to want to know him, who made quick judgements about him, and didn't want to hear what he had to say. 

He stiffened visibly and curtly replied to Oloriel, "Since the lady obviously finds my company to be so distasteful I will not subject her to it any longer. You shall have your privacy; I would not dare to intrude upon it in the slightest."

With that he bowed slightly and turned to march off into the forest, hoping to find a place of rest where he could lay down his throbbing head. Who knew dreams could be so wearying?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oloriel experienced a sinking feeling as she watched him leave. Despite her current anger he had never truly been anything but kind to her. And she knew that she had been rather unjust. His explanation was not that far fetched either – his only offense had been being concerned for her.

'But that is offense enough,' she muttered to herself. 'The last thing I need is a shoulder to cry on – they're far to addicting.'

As she sat on the sand, in her still damp clothing, she began to feel the silence close in on her. She realized that she had not been alone – truly alone – with her own thoughts for a long while. Not like this anyway. Her troubled dreams had effectively kept her from brooding while she slept, and over the past few nights her encounters with Elladan had kept her preoccupied. She had begun to forget how quiet it was when you were alone. She curled up on the sand and tried to block out her surrounding, but she couldn't. The dark sea stretched out before her – empty; the forest was lifeless and full of shadow – empty. Only the sky held any light, but even that did not lift her spirits. The stars seemed to retreat back into themselves; she felt like she was falling away from them, like they were withdrawing their blessing from her. She felt like she was being rebuked.

"What was I supposed to do?" she asked the slowly dimming stars. They gave her no reply.

"His act was dishonorable… very inappropriate… I could not have responded differently." She tried desperately to reconcile this reasoning with what she knew in her heart. Somewhere she heard a voice whisper _'He was trying to protect you.'_

She huffed in disbelief. "Protect me? And what, pray tell, do I need to be protected from?" She folded her arms in front of her chest and frowned, looking much like a disgruntled young elf-ling.

She did not hear a reply, but she didn't need to. A small voice in the back of her mind whispered the cold truth, and the answer made its way, trembling, out of her fragile lips. 

"Myself."

Her rigid pose disintegrated, and with a loud groan she flopped back onto the sand. 

When morning finally came, Oloriel's dark surroundings slowly faded back into the sunny walls of her room. She grimaced at the light coming in through her window and burrowed farther underneath the covers. 'If this is what I have to deal with in my dream world, I don't think I even want to face the real one today.'

***

1. This tasty little line was unabashedly pilfered from the movie "Mansfield Park", based off of Jane Austen's novel.

Vilya: one of the three elven rings of power. The ring of air (as opposed to fire or 

water), I believe. Elrond was its keeper.

Names to Know:

Oloriel: "dream daughter"

Karnélas: "red leaf" 

Olórë Mallë: Path of Dreams

****

Reviewers: Sorry about forgetting to reply in the last chapter!

bratprincess: You know what? Hearing that my story brightened your day really brightened my own day. I'm glad you're enjoying to so much. = ) Hmmm… book or movie?… it's a tough choice. I would like to stick to book, but I also need to be a little realistic. Trying to come up with enough dream stuff to keep with the plot for the months it will be before they actually meet might be tough. I think I'll speed up the timeline a little bit. But I should be keeping everything except the timeline intact – characters, events, etc. TigerLily713: Well, I replied to most of your stuff in the e-mail… but, thanks again. And I am very flattered that you find my writing to readable. *smiles with glee* 

****

Dreamstrifer: You sound exactly like a friend of mine – she can't stand Arwen in the movie… "All she does is kiss Aragorn!"… I don't mind her, except the fact that she does rain on Glorfindel's parade. You can't have everything I guess. I'm hoping to keep both Arwen and Elrohir involved with the plot. Glad you like her. = )

****

Concetta: Well, what can I say… here's more! ; )

*To those of you who left a review on my **poem… **It's not like I could put my thanks on the next 'chatper', so thanks!

Thanks to Blade-singer (Cathol-lin) of tolkienonline.com (go read her story "Legolas and the Olore Malle!) and 'Wandering Minds' of fanfiction.net for providing some sparks of inspiration! 

Now please, PLEASE review! I've never claimed to own my own muse, so I must get my inspiration and encouragement from another source! Come one... you know you want to... = ) 

~Iluvien~


	7. Like Ships Passing in the Night

Disclaimer: I pleaded, I begged, I groveled... but not matter how loudly I implored over JRRT's grave, I could not get him to come back through the shades of death and bequeath me the rights to LoTR. If it looks and smells and sounds like it ain't mine, then guess what?... It probably ain't.

Two things you need to know about this story…   
1.) In this story elves are generally in some control of their dreams.   
2.) While I hold to the idea that Elves can see dream-images or shadows of other elves/people on the _Olórë Mallë_ (Path of Dreams), for purposes of this story they normally don't, and perhaps never do, actually meet others in their dreams. But something is going to happen in this story which is _not_ normal.  
  
Names/Pronunciations and any Translation will come at the end of each chapter. ( ) signals a footnote.  
  
**A/N**: An official word on sticking to canon… I would love to stick to book-canon through this entire story, but I'll probably end up tweaking stuff a little to fit things into a more convenient time-line. I really don't have the brain-power right now to figure out all the particulars of time (i.e., how long _would_ it take two elves, riding horseback, to reach LothLorien from Rivendell?) … I don't even wanna think about it... I'll probably end up shortening some of the time that the fellowship takes to get from point A to point B, but I'll try to be reasonable about it. (P.S. I've also grown up on the BBC recorded, *abridged*, version of LoTR, and I'm only half way through the actual book _TTT_, so things may not be perfect!)  
  
______________  
  
Chapter 7.) Like Ships Passing in the Night  
  
***  
_My voice falls dead a foot from mine own lips,   
And but its ghost doth reach that vessel, passing, passing._  
- Paul Laurence Dunbar  
***  
  
~*~  
It had been almost two month since Oloriel last spoke with Elladan. They passed each other like shadows in their dreams and shied away from any communication. Neither of them was so socially backward that they could not have approached one another under normal circumstances, but these were not normal circumstances. Oloriel had come away from their last encounter embarrassed by her own weakness and confused by Elladan's compassion, and Elladan had come away from it stung with a feeling of rejection. And so they both waited – waited for the other one to make the first move. And after almost two months, they were still waiting.  
~*~  
  
Despite her overwhelming desire to stay in bed and wallow in self-pity, Oloriel had eventually rolled out of bed the morning after her encounter with Elladan. She had also found the determination to accomplish this same feat every morning since. She didn't have the same bounce in her step that had been present those few precious mornings when she was blissfully ignorant of Elladan's reality, but she was up and walking nonetheless.  
  
She was actually doing better than she expected. She had assumed that her nightmarish dreams would return with full fury, but was pleasantly surprised when she found that she had been mistaken. Her dreams no longer terrified her. And the more she thought about it, the more she began to think she knew why.  
  
No matter how unlikely it sounded, she couldn't help but feel that Elladan did have something to do with it. Even though they never spoke, his presence always seemed to cast a calming effect over her dreams. Her feelings were confirmed when one night Elladan did not appear in the dreamscape. A creeping sense of dread began to make its way into her heart, and it seemed as though the elements would yet again rise against her. She felt this way for several hours, but then, at the very moment when the tension in the air became so thick it seemed to fizzle, and when she was sure that the terror would strike, Elladan appeared. The shadow that had hung in the air was swept away. Having just fallen asleep, Elladan did not notice these changes. He saw her standing several yards in front of him and quickly turned away and departed, but she could still feel his presence. As much as she hated it, she was beginning to need him. He was a sign of hope for her, and she began to wait his arrival with anticipation; knowing that if ever he did not come, she would again be lost in a storm, alone.   
  
When she wasn't brooding about her dreams, she was caught up in the new routine of her life. She continued to work with Kallindo on her archery and swordplay; actually showing signs of definite improvement. And Írima's new child provided an endless outlet for her energy. More often than not she found herself in Írima and Nimfallë's home in the evenings. She loved to hold their new child, and play with her, and help to feed her… and secretly plan for her future. She was already sure that the tiny little fingers belonged to the hands of a healer.   
  
"I shall steal her away from you as soon as she can walk and make her my own little apprentice." Oloriel stated as she stared down into the small eyes of the elf-ling.  
  
"You shall do nothing of the sort – no one is going to steal my child!" Írima declared, then added with a playful smile, "But perhaps I'll let you borrow her."   
  
Írima did not feel the least bit jealous over her child. She knew that Oloriel needed a safe object into which she could pour out her pent up affections. And what could be more safe and harmless than an adorable little elf-ling?  
  
Oloriel laughed at Írima's comment and turned to stroll out on the small balcony, which was attached to the nursery. She held the tiny child in her arms, and was swaying her back and forth under the dappled sunlight coming through the leaves. She began to hold a one-sided conversation with her charge.  
  
"Your mother can believe whatever she wants, but we both know that you are going to run away with me. You will be a wonderful little healer. All you'll have to do is sit there and your smiles and laughter will fill the room and miraculously heal everyone of all their wounds and worries. Yes, that's what you shall do." She nuzzled the child's nose with her own. "You will have a wonderful life, do you know that? You have me, and you have _nana_(1), and you have _ada_(2). And none of us will ever leave you, because we love you so very much. Did you know that?"  
  
Oloriel buried her face in the child's small, silky curls. She made sure to keep her back to the room inside because there were tears beginning to glisten in her eyes. "You will never be left behind, I simply won't allow it." She rocked the baby gently back and forth. "Of all the nonsense, there must be something in my eye." She sniffed unconvincingly.  
  
Írima had come up behind Oloriel. She slowly wrapped her motherly arms around her child, and her young friend, and hugged them both tightly. "We won't leave you behind either, Oloriel."  
  
Oloriel did not answer at first, but continued to rock the child. Blinking away what remained of her tears, she allowed a smile to slowly spread across her face.  
  
"Oh Írima. She is so beautiful. She will capture many hearts, but I'm sure she will always be gentle with them. She will be loved by all, and she will be protected. Light will follow her wherever she goes; I can see it. She has so much promise. She will have a beautiful life. I will make sure of it."  
  
Írima gave her another gentle squeeze, then whispered softly, "That settles it then. You've made my decision complete."  
  
"What decision."  
  
"I have found her name."  
  
Oloriel brightened, she leaned down and whispered to the young one, "Do you here that, you have a name now." Looking back up at Írima, she asked, "Well, what shall it be then?"  
  
"Almárië."  
  
Oloriel smiled broadly. "Perfect."  
  
Before anything more could be said a very jovial Kallindo swept into the house and out onto the balcony. "And how is the little one today." He made a move to remove the elf-ling from Oloriel's arms, but she turned away swiftly.  
  
"Oh no you don't, she's mine!"  
  
Kallindo took on a look of indignation, "What? This is how you repay my patient instruction? I allow you to beat me in our last sparring mach and you won't even extend me the courtesy of allowing my to hold this little bundle of joy?" He gripped his heart melodramatically.  
  
Oloriel spun back around. "Ah! You did not let me win! I beat you fairly –" Kallindo gently swept the child into his arms. "Kallindo, give her back!"  
  
For the sake of her child, Írima stepped into the fray, "Come now _children_ you will both get a turn." She looked pointedly at both of them.  
  
Oloriel looked a little ashamed, but Kallindo smiled smugly. He looked down at the child, who presently had a firm grip on his finger, and whispered gleefully, "My turn!"  
  
Oloriel rolled her eyes at him. "We have all been reduced to the state of children with this one little package. However does something so small manage to incapacitate the judgement of two full-grown elves?" She chuckled, and resigned herself to watching the "little package" trying to suck on Kallindo's thumb.  
  
After a few minutes Kallindo gave the child up. "I must be off. I have duty on the borders this evening. Shall I see you again tomorrow, Oloriel?"  
  
"Oh no. You remember – it's my day off."   
  
Kallindo looked slightly downcast, but Oloriel did not notice it.  
  
When Kallindo finally left, Írima's face froze in a thoughtful expression. Finally she addressed Oloriel, "I never knew that Kallindo was so fond of children. He never used to visit this often before Almárië was born." She cast her eye sideways towards the she-elf.  
  
"Hmm?" Oloriel looked up from the child.  
  
Írima sighed in exasperation. "You never give Kallindo an extra moment's thought, do you?" Oloriel looked puzzled as to her meaning. Írima continued, "Since my subtle hints have been getting us nowhere I will be plain. I believe that Kallindo comes here so often because he knows that you will be here. Are you truly unaware of his apparent affection for you?"  
  
Oloriel smiled. "Well of course, Kallindo is like a brother. Not that anyone could ever replace Karnélas."  
  
Írima sighed heavily. "No Oloriel, _not_ like a brother… like a lover. Kallindo has been infatuated with you for years; can't you see it?"  
  
A look of shock passed over Oloriel's face, "Kallindo? No, you must be mistaken. I… I am just Kallindo's pet-project. When he is bored he pesters me, that is all."  
  
Írima rolled her eyes. She strongly disagreed with her friend, but decided not to push the issue. Things would work out eventually, one way or another.  
  
Oloriel soon left. She was flustered by the thought that Kallindo might have feelings for her other than those of a friend. She decided to take a walk outside the city walls would do much to calm her frantic thoughts.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*   
  
Elrohir cast a worried look in his brother's direction. They would soon be within sight of the Golden Wood. About a month ago, he and Elladan had been sent out as the advance guard of the fellowship. They were to ride to Lorien with news of the quest, urging their grandparents to assist the fellowship if they were to pass through their realm.  
  
They had hardly been at home since their arrival from the north almost two months ago. They had gone out with several other elves to track the whereabouts of the Nine, and two days after they returned with their news they were sent out again on the present mission.  
  
It had been in the days before they set out toward Lorien that Elladan had finally revealed to Elrohir what had happened in his dream. He had been skeptical at first; he did not see how 'green eyes' (as he continued to call her) could be real. But when Elladan revealed her name to him it became harder to refute. Elrohir was aware of the small maiden that his brother had looked for all those years ago, and the revelation of her name seemed to lend credence to the possibility.  
  
He was aware that his brother was giving the dream-maiden a very wide berth. His brother seemed to have convinced himself that the girl was offended by his very presence, and was determined not to inconvenience her with it any more. He hoped that Arwen had been able to talk some sense into their overly tense brother.  
  
Arwen had at least given her advice to Elladan. She had accidentally stumbled upon her two brothers when they were speaking of Oloriel one afternoon, and since Elladan had always trusted his sister implicitly, he told her the whole story.  
  
When Elladan had finished his narrative he exclaimed, "It is the most uncomfortable situation! She won't talk to me, and I know she doesn't want me there. But what am I to do about it?"   
  
Arwen looked sympathetically toward him and then asked, "You say that she has never spoken to you since?"  
  
"Aye."  
  
"And you think this is because she is angry or offended?"  
  
"What other explanation is there?"  
  
Arwen sighed. Her brother seemed to lack a great deal of understanding when it came to women. "How about this: she is scared, confused, and intimidated by your rank and position. She is probably very self-conscious, having only ever cried like an elf-ling in your presence." Elladan opened his mouth to respond, but she held up her hand to silence him. "It doesn't matter if she had a reason to cry or not, just that she did so in the presence of a strange, high-born elf. I do not think that she is angry with you. I grant you that she was certainly displeased when she discovered you 'spying' on her, but, though perhaps it was not a logical reaction, it was an understandable one. She probably cooled down very quickly and is waiting for _you_ to make the first move. As long as you approach her in a straightforward, open manner I do not see that there could be any problem. All of this must have happened for a reason, and you must endeavor to discover that reason. But you cannot do so as long as you continue to sulk in a corner."  
  
Elladan looked at his sister in consternation. Elrohir chuckled softly to himself – no matter how old his brother grew, he always managed to make himself look like an elf-ling when he was aggravated or confused.  
  
"Are you sure about that?" Elladan questioned.  
  
Arwen raised one of her fine eyebrows at him. Elladan sighed, "I suppose this is another one of your 'I'm always right' moments… What you say does carry a wisdom that cannot be denied. I will think on your advice."  
  
It had been almost two months and Elladan was still thinking.  
  
As they drew closer to the Golden Wood his nervousness multiplied, and he could not help fidgeting in his seat. It was this action that had drawn the attention of his brother.  
  
"You have not taken our sister's advice." It was more of a statement than a question on Elrohir's part.  
  
Elladan sighed and slumped in his saddle. "I couldn't do it. I just can't work up the courage to approach her. And what if we meet unexpectedly while we are here. She has no notion of me being near her home, and I cannot imagine what our meeting would be like under such circumstances." Elladan again wore his confused elf-ling expression.  
  
"Well, there is not much chance of that," his brother stated, "since we will only be here for a few hours. Father told us to make all speed back home, and so, after taking a meal with our grandparents, we should be on our way again."  
  
"That is something I suppose." Despite his statement, Elladan did not look very convinced.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Oloriel had gone west from the city. She was strolling along a small path, puzzling over her new mystery, when suddenly she felt a presence – a sort of tugging on her heart. She looked up. There, through the trees, ahead on her left, were two elves riding horseback, and several of the Galadhrim guard attending them on foot. Her heart almost stopped. The two riders were the sons of Elrond. Picking up her skirts, she quickly darted behind a tree. Breathlessly she watched them pass, hoping that she had not been seen. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was still wondering if the elf in her dreams was truly the real Elladan, but she didn't want to take any chances. She did _not_ want to be seen. They had passed her by now, but were still within plain sight. She peeked out from behind the trunk of the tree to watch them continue on their way. As she did so Elladan suddenly turned in his seat and seemed to scan the trees behind him. She quickly ducked back into her hiding place. With wide eyes she whispered to the trees, "He knows I'm here."   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Elladan groaned inwardly as he pulled the covers over his head. Somehow he and his brother had been talked into spending the night in Lorien. In his head he knew this made sense. There was no use heading out and having to make camp in a couple hours. They might as well sleep in a real bed this night.  
  
The sensation, which had coursed through him a short distance outside of Caras Galadhon(3), had not returned, and he was glad of it. It had been… unsettling – like something was calling to him.   
  
As he adjusted himself underneath the sheets he breathed a prayer that they would be able to ride out swiftly in the morning and avoid any chance meetings with green-eyed maidens.  
  
  
As he slipped onto the _Olórë Mallë_ he found himself on a relatively small island. Water was everywhere. He walked to the center of the island and found the maiden sitting underneath a willow tree. She looked up quickly then turned away. For the first time Elladan noticed that her eyes held no anger. In fact, the more he thought on it, the more he realized that they never had. If anything, she looked… nervous. His features softened as he looked at her. 'Just like me,' he thought. At that moment he almost stepped toward her and spoke, but the words caught in his throat, and instead he turned away from her into the trees.  
  
She watched him go with a look of sadness in her eyes. 'He probably doesn't think I'm worth his time.'  
  
The two of them avoided each other assiduously for the next few hours. Finally Elladan got fed up with the whole situation. 'What am I frightened of? She's just a maiden – she can't do that much harm.' He stood up resolutely from where he had been sitting and went in search of her.  
  
He found her sitting up in the branches of a tree. He came to the foot of it and, in as polite a manner as he could muster, greeted her. "Lady Oloriel." He bowed to her, ignoring the fact that she was several feet above his head. He glanced back up and offered what he hoped looked like a conciliatory smile.   
  
She looked down toward him but did not speak for several moments. Elladan felt rather unsettled by her silence, and thought that perhaps he should say something else. In the end, they both started speaking at the same time.  
  
"My lord – "  
  
"I wanted – "  
  
Oloriel blushed slightly and bowed her head. "Please, my lord, speak first."  
  
Elladan was about to object, but then thought better of it. "I wanted to forewarn you that I am in LothLorien."  
  
She smiled, "I know – I saw you ride into the city with your brother."  
  
Elladan gave her sharp glance. "Then you were in the trees. I knew something was there – I felt it."  
  
"As did I."  
  
They both stared at each other in wonder for a few moments.  
  
Elladan finally spoke. "I hope that my presence in the city has not brought discomfort to you… I will be leaving in the morning."  
  
"Why should it matter if I experienced discomfort? No doubt your presence was required. I will survive." She replied, rather curtly.  
  
"Still – I should like to know that you are well… and that… you are no longer angry with me." Elladan shuffled on his feet a little.  
  
Oloriel softened immediately. She almost laughed at the image of a 'shuffling' Lord Elladan. "Well, if you must know I shall tell you. I was certainly surprised by your appearance, but did not experience lasting harm because of it. You are welcome in the Golden Wood."  
  
Elladan visibly relaxed. He smiled up at her, but before anything more could be said he began to fade…   
  
Elrohir was shaking his arm gently. "Elladan, wake. It is time to depart."  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
As soon as Elladan had faded from the dream, Oloriel called her mind back from it as well. She slowly opened her eyes. It was just before dawn. She slipped a thick gray cloak over her nightgown and made her way down from her flet and out of the city.   
  
She sat perched high up in a tree for almost half-an-hour, but then she felt it – the same tugging, as if something was trying to get her attention. She looked up and saw the twins riding at a quick pace out of the city gates. They passed near her tree. As they did so Elladan's head shot up. For several minutes he looked confused, but then comprehension dawned on his features. He spoke to his horse and drew up several hundred feet beyond the tree. He looked around him almost frantically, but she knew how to hide from unwelcome eyes, and so he did not find her. When he caught no trace of her his face fell in what seemed like disappointment.  
  
She felt ashamed for being so timid, and was about to call out to him. But as she did, the words seemed to stick in her throat. The only sound that passed her lips, "Ell–", was spoken so softly that it fell to the ground far short of the mark.  
  
Elrohir had called back to his brother, urging him on. Elladan took one last look around the wood, and then, turning with reluctance, rode to catch up with his brother.  
  
***  
  
1. mom/mommy (short form of 'naneth', meaning "mother")  
2. dad/daddy (short form of 'adar', meaning "father")  
3. Caras Galadhon – city of the elves in LothLorien  
  
Names to Know:  
  
Oloriel: "dream daughter"  
Írima: "lovely, desirable"  
Nimfallë: "white foam"  
Almárië: "be blessed"  
Kallindo: "noble heart"  
Karnélas: "red leaf"   
  
Olórë Mallë: Path of Dreams

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Reviewers:

bratprincess: Nope, Elladan does not know that Oloriel's brother is dead. I'm not sure what I'm gonna do with that, but I'm sure it will come up later. ****

Pattygarv: Three cheers for home school moms! They just rock my world. = ) Have you been raising up good little LotR devotees? ; ) Glad to know that a non-teenager actually finds my work interesting. (Speaking of which, is anyone else out there a non-teenager?) On Consignment stores: I found this really awesome dress and wrap combo for a banquet I'm going to and it cost less than the banquet ticket!!! I love used clothing stores!!!! *laughs like a maniac*

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TigerLily713: Nooooo!!! Don't stop breathing! Here's the next chapter... breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out... good, the color is starting to return... you scared me girl! ; )

  
  
Thanks to Blade-singer (Cathol-lin) of tolkienonline.com (go read her story "Legolas and the Olore Malle!) and 'Wandering Minds' of fanfiction.net for providing some sparks of inspiration!   
  
Now please, PLEASE review! I've never claimed to own my own muse, so I must get my inspiration and encouragement from another source! Come one... you know you want to... = )   
  
~Ilúvien~


	8. Night Light

Disclaimer: I pleaded, I begged, I groveled... but not matter how loudly I implored over JRRT's grave, I could not get him to come back through the shades of death and bequeath me the rights to LoTR. If it looks and smells and sounds like it ain't mine, then guess what?... It probably ain't.

Two things you need to know about this story... 1.) Elven dreams are very realistic. 2.) Elves shouldn't normally meet *real* people along the Olórë Mallë (Path of Dreams)... but something happens in this story that is not normal

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Sorry this took so long! I was gone for five days, and then ff.net wasn't letting me upload documents properly… it isn't my fault!

Names/Pronunciations and any Translation will come at the end of each chapter. ( ) signals a footnote.

_________________

Chapter 8.) Night Light 

***

__

"Tread softly because you tread on my dreams."

William Butler Yeats 

***

Oloriel looked up from the tome she was reading when her delicate ears picked up the sound of hurried footsteps approaching. She had been scouring through a volume of herb lore, refreshing herself on the medicinal properties of various plants. As she looked up she suddenly realized how long she had been sitting there. By the look of things it was early evening.

"There you are!" exclaimed Kallindo enthusiastically, as he came in through the doorway with a bundle under his arm. "I should have known I'd find you inside crouched over another one of your dusty books. What you need is some fresh air."

Oloriel raised a delicate eyebrow in his direction. "And I suppose you came ready with a plan whereby I might procure some of that fresh air." 

Kallindo grinned at her then grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room.

Oloriel did not like the familiarity of the touch. Írima's insinuation about the possibility that Kallindo might have feelings for her had made Oloriel increasingly apprehensive. She gently pulled on her hand; Kallindo took the hint and released it from his grasp.

"And what, pray tell, are we going to be doing this afternoon?" Oloriel questioned.

"I am going to teach you how to use a long-knives."

"But, Kallindo, this is not our day for practicing. I should still be studying."

"Oh nonsense, your mind should rest. And besides," he continued, gesturing to the bundle under his arm, "the new set of blades that I have had made for you were just finished this morning; I couldn't wait to see what you thought of them."

"You had a new set made for me - whatever for? We don't even know if I shall ever master them." Oloriel was trying not to sound too displeased, but she couldn't help feeling that Kallindo was acting rashly.

"Do not worry - you shall master them. You couldn't help it with me as your teacher." Kallindo replied with an exaggeratedly smug look on his face.

Oloriel just rolled her eyes at him. 

When they came to the practice grounds Kallindo unrolled the cloth bundle. Inside were two exquisitely crafted, elven long-knives in matching sheathes. Oloriel caught her breath slightly. The mithril blades were intricately etched with scrollwork and elven runes, and at the base of each there was a gleaming star. The handgrips were made of a black wood, with inlayed silver designs. At the center of each hand guard was set a gleaming emerald. 

"These are far too grand for me, Kallindo." Oloriel protested. But she could not sway him, he was determined to see her hold and wield them. 

Oloriel did not know what to do. She felt that, if she protested too much, she would hurt Kallindo. He had obviously put much thought into the gift - the knives were designed specifically for her, being of the perfect length and weight. But she also was still wary of him. Would he go to this much trouble if he just thought of her as a friend? She did not know. And so, with reluctance she accepted the blades. 

~~~

Oloriel sighed in frustration. Kallindo had, yet again, flicked the long-knife out of her hand and pinned her against the base of a tree, his own long-knife to her throat.

Oloriel did not particularly like using long-knives, or at least she did not like using only one of them. Kallindo had insisted that it was easier to begin with one, but she did not like how small it was compared to a long-sword, and she felt very vulnerable when it was her only weapon. But she felt even less vulnerable without it. It had been several moments since Kallindo had pinned her against the tree, but he still held her there. Her lungs were begging for more air, but the sharp tip against her throat made shallow breathing the only option. Kallindo just stared at her, apparently unaware of his surroundings. There was a strange, unreadable look in his eyes. 

"Kallindo," she finally managed to speak between gulps for air, "You have won."

Kallindo blinked a few times, but did not show any other signs of awareness.

"Kallindo," she gasped more urgently, "It is hard to breathe."

This seemed to produce a better reaction. His eyes melted quickly with concern and he let his hand drop to his side. He shook his head as if to clear it. 

"I am sorry Aiwë, I… I do not know what is the matter with me."

Oloriel was wondering the same thing, but she didn't say as much. Instead she muttered, "Perhaps you have had a little _too _much fresh air."

Kallindo chuckled. "Yes, perhaps you are right. I think we are done for the day. Shall I escort you home?"

Oloriel would rather he didn't, but she couldn't think up any good excuse why not, so she agreed. However, she did not take his proffered arm.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kallindo knew that he was acting foolishly. For some reason his stubborn heart would not listen to wisdom. Perhaps he was not in love, but there was certainly a growing attraction in him toward Oloriel. And, instead of listening to his head and trying to stifle it, he was taking every opportunity of spending time with her. He visited her at the Houses of Healing, he dropped into Írima and Nimfallë's home whenever he knew she would be there, he went beyond the call of duty in his training of her. And as far as he could tell, none of it was helping. Oloriel still treated him as she always had - a casual friend and nothing more. And after that evening's performance, he couldn't totally blame her.

When he had pinned her up against the tree he was only about two feet away from her. Something about her then had entranced him. He had her in a position where he was free to examine her close-up. Her green eyes were bright with exercise, her skin held a brilliant glow, and he had to admit that the increased rise and fall of her chest as she gulped for air did not go unnoticed. She was beautiful, and all he could do was take her in with his eyes. If Oloriel had not said something they might still be standing there.

'You're going to scare her off,' he thought reprovingly to himself, 'You can't let her know - not yet.' 

He was now watching her walk briskly a few steps ahead of him. They had been silent since they left the training grounds, and he was not sure what he could say to break the silence. He was not even sure if he _should _break the silence. 'At least if I don't speak I can't say anything regrettable.' And yet, how long would he remain silent? How long would he wait for her to cast an eye his way? Perhaps waiting was not the best strategy. He sighed softly. He didn't know the answer.

They had reached the bottom of Oloriel's flet while he was musing, and she had now turned to him to say goodnight.

"Thank you for the 'fresh air', Kallindo," Oloriel said by way of parting words.

As she turned to climb up, Kallindo acted on an impulsive thought. He touched her arm lightly, and when she turned her face back to him he reached up and tucked a loose hair behind her ear, brushing her cheek with his fingers as he did so. "Sweet dreams, Aiwë."

Before she could respond he had turned and walked quickly away.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Since approaching Oloriel in the dreamscape over two weeks ago, Elladan's mind had rested much more peacefully. It felt like a cloud had been lifted from his spirits. He no longer felt uncomfortable in his dreams, and was therefore a much more amiable travelling companion for his brother in the daytime. 

The change in him did not go unnoticed by Elrohir. They were still half a day away from Rivendell when he insisted on knowing what had produced this beneficial affect in his brother. Elladan told the tale… most of it. Elrohir still did not know what had made Elladan turn back as they rode out from Caras Galadhon. 

"So green-eyes didn't bite your head off after all?" Elrohir remarked with a slight chuckle after the tale was finished. "And to think you could have resolved all this two months ago and saved me from having to endure your foul mood. Tell me, have you talked much with her since?"

"We have exchanged a few words - general pleasantries and such - but nothing beyond that. She knows that I am journeying back to Rivendell, and since my time for sleep is cut short by the need for keeping watch, I think she generally tries to let me rest while I can, and not disturb me. I would like to get to know her better, to perhaps learn more about why this is happening to us, but I'm not quite sure how to broach the subject."

"Haven't you learned your lesson yet, brother? What happened to the bold warrior I know? I do believe that you are more frightened of this maiden than you would be of a pack of wargs." Elrohir grinned at his brother and shook his head. 

Elladan rolled his eyes. "This is not war, Elrohir, it is diplomacy - two very different things. I don't want to use the girl for target practice; I want to talk to her. I know that you haven't had much experience with merely talking to a girl - you usually just sweep them off their feet - but if you try very hard I think you will be able to grasp the concept."

Elrohir couldn't help laughing at his brother's dry wit. "True, brother, very true. So you want to talk to her? Why don't you simply tell her what you told me – that you want to understand what is going on, and that you would like to get to know her?"

Elladan sighed. "Well, that would be the simple way I suppose. But you know me - I always make things more complicated than they need to be."

~~~

Elladan and Elrohir were welcomed home to Rivendell with open arms. They spent the evening in the great banquet room, at a celebration for their safe return. The Fellowship had left on their quest a few days before, and so there was a slight damper on the night's merriment. But it was only a slight one. There was still feasting and dancing and singing. Elrohir somehow goaded his brother into dancing with several of the unattached maidens. To his surprise, Elladan did not find the experience to be unpleasant. But still, without question, his favorite partner of the night was his very own sister. As they were spinning around the dance floor together, the siblings had a chance to fill each other in on the past few weeks apart…

"And so I was right again!" crowed Arwen in delight.

Elladan groaned, but could not help smiling down at his sister. "Yes, you were right; she was no longer angry with me. But even though we are on speaking terms now, we have not spoken much. I hardly know what to say. Things are so very strange between us."

"It certainly is an unusual situation," Arwen mused. 

"And you do not even know all of it." 

Arwen looked up puzzled.

"There is more to the story, which I have yet to tell even Elrohir." Elladan went on to explain to Arwen the connection that seemed to exist between himself and Oloriel, which allowed them to sense each other's presence.

When he had completed his narrative Arwen was silent for a few moments; then she spoke. "I am utterly baffled. Perhaps you should speak to father about all of this."

"Yes, Perhaps. But not yet." 

As the song that they had been dancing to came to an end, another one began. Elladan raised a questioning eyebrow at his sister, and she assented with a slight nod of her head. They began to move to the swaying melody of the new song. For several moments they did not speak, but Elladan finally broke the silence.

"And what of you, sister? How has your life been since I was away? Surely you have faced some difficulties."

Arwen shrugged. She knew what he was referring to, but she chose to ignore the implications. "Well, I did have a horrendous time re-cataloging some of the books in father's library. You would think that after so many millennia of existence he would have learned better organizational skills." She chuckled impishly.

But he did not let her off so easily. He smiled fondly down at her. "You still make time to take care of father with all your worries. I do believe, sister, that you are the bravest woman I know." Elladan leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Arwen's forehead.

Arwen smiled shakily. "I am not so brave."

"Ah, but you are… You miss him don't you?" He replied simply.

A slight shadow passed over Arwen's eyes. She ducked her head down and rested it on Elladan's shoulder. He held her a little more closely as they danced to the music.

"Yes - you are the bravest woman I know. So many times you have had to say good-bye to him, but you keep on shining. You are truly the Evenstar. I don't know how you bear it."

Arwen sighed into Elladan's tunic. "I bear it because I know he loves me. That is what really matters. When I know that he is alive in the world and loving me then it is not so hard to be brave." She raised her head and looked steadily at her brother. Her eyes held unshed tears, but the moisture only made them flash more brilliantly in the candlelight. Elladan smiled sympathetically. The music came softly to an end, and with one last twirl the siblings came to a gentle standstill. Elladan squeezed her hand gently. "May the Valar grant me such a love." He kissed her on the cheek and then retired to his room.

That night he went to sleep with many emotions. He had been thinking and pondering about many things, but mostly about his sister. He began to think over their many conversations together. He was reminded of their time up on his balcony, soon after he had returned from the north over two months ago. She had said that time was precious. She had been right again. He decided that he had wasted to many nights already. If the Valar had chosen this girl to share his dreams then there must be a reason, and he would find out what it was. He would talk to her… tonight.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oloriel flopped down on her bed with a frustrated sigh. She had been pacing her room for quite some time now. She was thoroughly distressed over Kallindo's behavior. More and more she became convinced that Írima was right. But she wished that she wasn't.

'How could he do this to me! I cannot give him what he wants. I do not want it this way. I never did!' She turned over and groaned into her pillow. 

'Kallindo has always _only_ been a friend. He's not allowed to fall in love with me, because I can't afford to fall in love with anyone!' She pounded on her pillow. 

'Why is my life so complicated!' She threw her pillow against the wall.

All in all, her pillow was not having a very good time of it. 

She pulled the blankets over her head and tried to rest. It eluded her for quite some time, but eventually sleep did find her…

As she entered her dream she found herself in a large room. It was very open, with windows and balconies leading off from it, marking itself of elven design. There were carved vines trailing up the walls, and plush, elegant furnishings. She strolled out onto one of the balconies, which over-looked a quite forest. Everything was calm and quiet - it soothed her raw nerves and emotions. After several minutes she heard a stirring in the room behind her. 'Elladan,' she thought. 'The last thing I need right now is another male elf. Hopefully he will leave me alone.' She did not get her wish. She heard him pushing aside the curtains that covered the doorway behind her.

"Elladan, please… I do not wish for conversation right now." 

He stepped through the curtains despite her plea. "As much as I would like to honor your wishes, I cannot put off what I have to say." He continued forward, but she held up her hand and suddenly he was rendered immobile. Elladan tried to force is legs forward but they were held in place. "I cannot move."

Oloriel turned toward him. "Well yes, this is my dream." Elladan looked at her confused. "I am always the one who is left behind when you awaken; it was my storm that you first entered into; they are all my dreams. And if I say you cannot move… then you cannot move."

Elladan's brows in consternation. "That is hardly fair."

"I don't really care right now." Oloriel admitted. They stared at each other defiantly for several minutes. Finally, Oloriel spoke. "I have many things on my mind at present. I need to think and I would appreciate it if I could be left alone to do so." With that she began to walk passed him back into the room.

Elladan sighed, "Thinking seems to be your favorite excuse for getting rid of people." Oloriel paused in her tracks. He continued, "Did it ever occur to you that two heads might be better than one? If we are going to be forced to share our dreams then we might as well put it to good purpose. Tell me what it is that troubles you - perhaps I can help."

This was not the response Oloriel was expecting. Her mind went blank and she could not come up with any sharp replies. She opened and closed her mouth nervously several times and then spoke. "Oh very well." She lifted her hand and the invisible barrier that surrounded Elladan disappeared. She went back to stand at the balcony railing. He came and stood next to her. 

"Why are people so confusing and infuriating?" she asked petulantly. 

Elladan raised an eyebrow and looked rather amused. Turning his head slightly toward her, he asked, "Anyone in particular, or just people in general?"

She sighed. Looking around furtively she replied, "If you must know, someone is falling in love with me and I don't want him to fall in love with me and I don't know how to avert the disaster."

Elladan was silent for several moments. "You seem very sure that you do not want his love. Is he that offensive?"

"Well, no. He is my friend. But I don't want anyone falling in love with me."

"Why?"

Oloriel stiffened, "I don't think you need to know that."

"Yes I do. I am trying to make you out."

"And why is that necessary?"

"Because, perhaps you are part of your own problem. If you merely wanted to save this friend from pain or were offended by his affections then you could simply tell him so… and you also would not have looked frightened when you spoke of it. Why are you afraid of being loved?"

"I... I suppose… I suppose it is because I do not want anyone to persuade me into loving them back." Oloriel's hands gripped the railing tightly; her eyes were focused straight ahead. 'Why am I telling him this?' she wondered frantically. However, her lips kept moving of their own accord. "I do not want to love anyone because I do not want to need anyone. I stand alone - that is all."

"But you are not alone. What of your brother, Karnélas?"

Oloriel cringed like she had been struck. Elladan caught her arm gently to steady her. Oloriel did not meet his eyes, but she slowly whispered back, "Karnélas is… he's dead."

Elladan groaned softly. "Your mother, your father, and your brother… I think I see now." He gently pulled her into his arms. She resisted him at first, but he held her there firmly, and soon she rested in his embrace.

"How long has it been?" he whispered softly.

She shuddered slightly and he tightened his hold on her. "He passed into the Halls of Mandos(1) only a century after my father departed into the West… They all left me. I needed them - I loved them - but I couldn't make them stay. They all left me."

Elladan just held her for several minutes. Then he slowly released her. He took her two hands and kept her facing toward him. He made sure that she was looking at him before he spoke.

"My mother went into the West a few years before your father did, so I can understand at least some of your pain, though certainly not all of it. But even worse for me is the fact that my sister has chosen to bind herself to a man and give up her immortality - she will die someday. My heart aches every time I look at her, knowing that she will not always be with me, but when I look at her I also see more joy and radiance then I have ever seen before. Her light makes all around her happy, and I am glad that I can, for a few more precious years, bask in that light. My love for her _will _cause me pain, but I would not change it for anything, because without that love my life would be full of shadows. You can survive without love, but I don't think you can truly live without it. Knowing the love of a father and a brother, for however short a time, is much better than never knowing it at all. I do not know this man who is falling in love with you, but I beg you to consider my words: spurn him because he is just a friend, or spurn him because he is an enemy, but _do not _spurn him because you are afraid."

Oloriel just stared at him; then she gently squeezed his hands and let them go. She walked slowly back into the room. Despite it's openness, the contrast between the light of the outside and the shadow of the inside made it necessary for her to wait as her eyes adjusted to the new environment. She turned back and squinted slightly to see Elladan, standing in the brilliant, warm sun. 

She sighed, then shook her head slightly. "Tread carefully my lord; if I find that your wisdom is unsound I will haunt your dreams _forever_." She gave him a dry smile, and then, for the first time in too many centuries, stepped back into the light.

***

1. Place of the after-life. Mandos is one of the Valar.

Names to Know:

Oloriel: "dream daughter"

Kallindo: "noble heart"

Írima: "lovely, desirable"

Aiwë: (Kallindo's nickname for Oloriel) "small bird" 

Nimfallë: "white foam"

Karnélas: "red leaf" 

Olórë Mallë: Path of Dreams

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A/N: Don't you all just love the angst! Hehehe… I can't get enough of it. ; ) Thank you all my faithful reviewers – every time I get a good review it makes my day… keep 'em coming! = )

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Concetta: *grins wickedly* You'll just have to be patient… it'll come in due time. ; ) Actually, I haven't decided wen exactly they're going to meet. **Any suggestions?**

Lasse-Lanta: (When you finally make it this far in your reading…)*****smiles* I know exactly what you mean. Sometimes I read through a story late on into the night because I just can't stop until I find out what happens… and then I always regret 1.) That I'm so darn tired in the morning, and 2.) That the story is over already! ; ) 

Yep, no slash here. I personally do not appreciate slash, so I wouldn't write it, but I also agree with you – it doesn't seem to fit into Tolkien's world.

I think you'll find that Oloriel does have good points and bad points. She's not really that clumsy, but she's not a world-renowned warrior who can best Legolas at archery either…. She's somewhere in between. I've obviously already written several more chapters than you read when you submitted the review, so I can't actually take your advice into account for them... I look forward to hearing your take on her Mary Sue-ness in those chapters – did I subconsciously avoid the pitfalls?

Thanks for the long review. = )

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Bratprincess: Don't be too hard on Elrohir… he didn't know! I hope this chapter doesn't "kill" you more. ; )

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TigerLily713: Glad that you like the little plot twist… I have to admit that I took an evil pleasure in making my readers think they were actually gonna meet. *chuckles evilly* I hope that I'm succeeding in creating that tension… we'll see how it goes…

~Ilúvien~


	9. A New Dawn

Disclaimer: blah-blah-blah... not mine... blah-blah-blah... OCs are mine... blah-blah-blah... don't sue me...

Things you need to know about this story...  
1.) Elven dreams are very realistic  
2.) Elves shouldn't normally meet *real* people along the _Olórë Mallë_ (Path of Dreams)... but something happens in this story that is not normal  
  
Sorry this took so long! I was gone for five days… it wasn't my fault!… btw, I finally got around to responding to reviewers for the last chapter. You can find my responses in the comments section of that chapter. = )  
  
Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. ( ) signals a footnote.  
  
_________________  
  
Chapter 9.) A New Dawn  
  
***  
_"I've lived to bury my desires,   
And see my dreams corrode with rust;   
Now all that's left are fruitless fires   
That burn my empty heart to dust."_

Aleksandr Pushkin 

***  
  
  
The sun was bursting through the golden leaves of LothLorien, showering everything in a joyful blaze. The light was shining full on Oloriel's face as she awoke from her peaceful slumber. She lay quietly beneath the warmth of Anar's rays.  
  
Her dream last night had turned out very differently than she'd expected. She and Elladan had finally had an actual conversation. It seemed that the prince had become fed up with their polite yet distant encounters and was determined to break through the uncertain wall that stood between them. She had not initially welcomed this turn of events, being in a foul mood and not wanting to deal with him, but she had gradually been brought to the realization that it was good to have someone safe to talk to. And who could be more safe then an elf, living hundreds of miles away, who was not a part of her waking life? So she opened up some of her mind to him, and explained some of her troubles. He in turn had spoken of his own worries concerning his sister. In their conversation he had shown himself to be both intelligent and compassionate. She liked his manner, and had been almost sorry to leave when morning called her back to wakefulness.  
  
She yawned and stretched lazily underneath her sheets before rolling to the other side of the bed. She got up and walked a few paces to her wardrobe, where she pulled out a simple green dress. A silvery gray cloak was thrown over this to complete her attire. After dressing she descended from her flet, and set out on a walk. She had decided that a brilliant morning such as this should not be wasted indoors.  
  
She passed by one of the kitchens and pilfered some bread and fruit. She wrapped it up in a small cloth and hid it under her cloak. The city was wide-awake as she made her way to the city walls; she tried to draw as little attention to herself as possible. Her efforts did not prove adequate however.  
  
_//Dream daughter, where are you going?//_  
  
Oloriel heard the voice of the Lady in her mind. Up ahead she saw the white trailing hem of a dress disappear behind a large mallorn tree.  
  
_//Come dream daughter, there are things I would tell you.//_  
  
Instinctively she followed the glimpses of white through a maze of trees, and eventually found herself in a large clearing, filled with small flowers. Galadriel sat in the midst of the flowers, weaving them into her hair. The Ladies voice reached out to her softly.  
  
"Come child. Sit with me."  
  
Oloriel slowly knelt down beside the Lady, anxious to know what she would speak of. She was forced to be patient, however, as the Lady shifted toward her and silently began braiding flowers into her hair as well. Oloriel was not quite sure how to react to this, but eventually she felt her muscles and mind relaxing under the gentle ministrations of the Lady.   
  
"There," the Lady spoke when she had finished, "You look enchanting. You should wear flowers in your hair more often; they help to soften your somber exterior."  
  
"I wear what suits me best, I suppose." Oloriel replied, "Why look like something I'm not?"  
  
The Lady examined her closely, then countered, "And what are you, dream daughter?"  
  
Oloriel sat puzzled for several minutes, then tentatively answered, "I am my Lady's handmaiden; I am a healer; I am a weaver of song."  
  
"Is that all?"  
  
"Well yes… I think so… that is what I am."  
  
The Lady smiled sadly, "But are you not also a daughter, a sister, and a friend? Handmaidens can be replaced; new healers and musicians can be trained; it is only what is in the heart that cannot be forgotten or lost. What fills your heart?"   
  
The eyes of the Lady fell piercingly on Oloriel; she felt very vulnerable under their gaze. She could hear her heart thudding loudly in her ears, and she felt the prickling of tears behind her eyes. Finally she whispered, almost inaudibly, "Nothing."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
Oloriel looked up at the Lady of Light, confusion written on her features. "Would I not know what is in my own heart?"  
  
Galadriel laughed lightly. "Not many people really do, child."  
  
Oloriel frowned at this and looked away. Galadriel smiled softly to herself, and then, with two slender fingers, gently turned Oloriel's face back to meet her own.   
  
"Do not let your heart be troubled. You have grieved long, but there is still hope. The light has already begun to seep in again. You are a child of dreams, and your dreams tell the same tale. When you accepted his help your heart began to open and the nightmares receded. Do not push it closed again; do not run back into the darkness. It is very lonely in the dark; do not pretend that it is good to be alone."   
  
Oloriel's eyes widened. "Are you saying that I was the cause of my own terror? How could you know of this?"  
  
"I see many things."   
  
With that Galadriel gracefully stood and walked off into the trees.  
  
Oloriel sat there for several minutes in confusion. 'Does she know that it is Elladan? What all does she see?' She shifted nervously and then felt the small package of food, which she had concealed in her cloak. This brought her back to reality. Her mind was in turmoil, but she decided to carry on with her morning excursion; after all, the woods outside of the city were the best place to think in peace and quiet.  
  
After she left the city gates she slowly found her way to what was becoming one of her favorite haunts. It was the same tree that she had crept into when she was watching for Elladan to ride out from the city over two weeks ago; the one that had hid her so well from his view.   
  
She had gone back to this tree several times since then. She had taken a liking to it, though she was not quite sure why. It was tall and graceful, very old and comforting. Its forbearing branches now held her again. She climbed up high into the tree and its leaves seemed to crowd in and shelter her against all spying eyes.  
  
She unfolded the small bundle that carried her breakfast fare and laid the contents out on the branch in front of her cross-legged form. With relish she bit into a juicy, golden peach, being careful to keep the pulp off of her gown.  
  
As she ate the sun slowly began to lose its morning brilliance, and mellow out into a soft golden glow. Her emotions followed its example: ruffled nerves calming down into a more placid state.  
  
When she was done with breakfast, she let her legs dangle over one side of the branch and let her body mold into the crook of the tree. She sighed contentedly as a small wind blew through the leaves around her. And suddenly it hit her. 'I have been here before… in this very same position, in this very tree.' The feelings that she had experienced then came rushing back over her, as if the tree had absorbed them and held them these many long years, and was now returning them to their rightful owner. This was the tree that had comforted her in her grief, a few days after her father had departed for Valinor. This was the tree in which she had first met Elladan.  
  
She had forgotten it. It had been her favorite tree, but the memory of it faded over the years. But now fate seemed to have brought them back together.   
  
A few days or weeks ago she would have been disturbed at the associations this tree brought to life, but now it brought only a smile to her face. She was glad that she had rediscovered her old friend, and the memories it had stored for her. She began to think about her father. Not about the grief of his passing, but about their life before he had left. She laughed aloud at some of the more joyful images that came to her mind.  
  
Light was beginning to seep in, just as Galadriel had predicted.  
  
She rested her head against the tree and sighed, 'Elladan is right. Better to have known love and lost it, then never to have known it at all.' She smiled wistfully. 'But what of Kallindo? What shall I do with him? Would it have been better to never know his friendship than to have the friendship along with the risk of something more?'   
  
Oloriel considered this question for some time. She came to realize that Kallindo's friendship meant more to her than she had previously realized. He had always been there for her, with a quick smile and a new scheme. He had so much enthusiasm for life, but had never been put off by her apathy. He seemed always to want to share his enthusiasm with her. She began to feel very humbled that he would choose to spend so much time on her. She felt very grateful for his caring heart.   
  
'And yet, being grateful is very different from being in love,' she concluded with a sigh. 'I do love Kallindo… but like a brother.' She sat for several minutes in uncertainty and then her jaw stiffened with resolution, 'After all his faithfulness to me he deserves to know at least that much. It would be unjust for me to push him away simply because I am frightened.'  
  
It was then that it struck her how selfish she had grown to be. For so many years she had been searching for love and acceptance from other people, but had not been willing to love in return. It had been too dangerous in her mind. Better to push people away then to let them come close and possibly hurt her. Better to let her dreams fade then to risk the chance of them being crushed. This is how she had lived for so long, and her dreams had started to reflect her reality. That is what Galadriel had been talking about. She had been pushing people away for so long that her heart was almost empty. It was into this void that the dark thoughts and dreams and flowed. Her dreams told of who she was – a lonely and frightened girl.  
  
"But no more." She declared aloud, "This is no way to live. I _will not_ be afraid any more," As she said this, a weight seemed to slip from her. It was as if her heart had awakened from a very long slumber. After so many centuries it was free – free to love again.   
  
She smiled dryly. 'That is, if I even remember how.'  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*   
  
Elladan was trying his utmost to concentrate on the text in front of him, but he was not having much luck. Reading in his father's library was usually a very relaxing activity, but this morning he could not get his mind to focus on the words. The volume of Elven poetry that he held was therefore set aside with a small sigh; it fell open on the table next to him. He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, and let his mind wander to the events of the previous night.  
  
In some ways his experiment had been a great success. Not only had he spoken with Oloriel, but he had somehow managed to catch a glimpse of her true self – her worries and thoughts and emotions. He seemed to have been able to break through some of her walls, almost effortlessly. More startling however was the way in which he had returned her candor. He had spoken to her of things that he would not have spoken of with any but his closest friends and family. And seeing as his list of close friends was almost nonexistent, this meant that Oloriel had somehow welcomed herself into a very elite circle. And it had all seemed so natural, so… right. But how could that be? Elladan shook his head slightly. He leaned forward and put his chin in his hands.   
  
Just then his father entered the room; he paused in the doorway. Something was not right with his son.  
  
"What weighs so heavily on your mind?"  
  
Elladan looked up and tried to appear neutral. "Nothing, _adar_." father  
  
Elrond couldn't help smiling at the failed attempt of his son to sound casual. "I am your father and I have known you for over three millennia – you cannot lie to me that easily, Elladan."  
  
Elladan looked confusedly up at his father. Elrond was the one person who could still make him feel like an elf-ling, and he could not long resist the persistence of his questioning gaze. He shifted in his chair uncomfortably. "I do not quite know where to start."  
  
"Why don't you start by telling me what you were just thinking of."  
  
Elladan thought about this for several moments, then spoke. "How is it possible to feel totally at home with someone you hardly know? Can you… is it possible for there to be people… for there to be someone who you were meant to know, and – and right away you feel the connection?"  
  
Elrond slowly walked passed where his son sat, and stood looking out one of the large windows. Eventually he turned and addressed Elladan. "The will of Eru(1) pervades everything. You ask me if it is possible? Yes, it is. But do not let everything rest in the hands of fate. It may push you in the right direction, but it will not take every step for you. If there is someone who brings light to your heart then take joy in it for what it is. The path will become clearer to you as you walk down it." When he finished speaking he turned back to the window.   
  
Elladan sat still, thinking on what his father had said. The words did not bring any definite answers, but they did help to calm his mind quite a bit. 'He speaks wisely. If something about Oloriel makes me feel at ease then does it really matter why?'  
  
Elrond broke into his reverie. Turning from the window with eyes full of sparkling mirth, he asked, "Tell me… is she beautiful?"   
  
Elladan started, then ducked his head. How did his father know that it was a maiden he spoke of? But even though he was confused and a little embarrassed he could not help replying, almost immediately, "Yes. Very."  
  
His eyes scanned the ground distractedly. They found their way to the book of poetry, lying open on the low table next to him. One line in particular stood out at him.  
  
_"Ned aglar he bada, bin elui morn"_ (2) In beauty she walks, like a starry night  
  
Elladan raised his eyebrow and sighed to himself. 'Beautiful night-maidens seem to haunt my every turn… how appropriate.'  
  
Elrond noticed his son's change in demeanor, but decided not to pry further. Quietly he slipped from the room.  
  
Several minutes after his father left, Elladan stirred from his chair. He walked over to the same window that Elrond had looked out of. The sun was taking a firm hold on its upward clime. 'Time to put aside my idleness I would say.'   
  
His brother had somehow guilted him into promising to help inspect the security of the southern borders, and he had the vague suspicion that Elrohir would not let him squirm out of the obligation. 'He certainly won't leave without me, and if I hide away up here he'll just come up with another one of his 'creative' ways to pay me back.' Elladan grinned sardonically.   
  
With that he turned from the window and headed for the doorway. As he did so his steps faltered. His vision blurred slightly and he heard a small rushing in his ears; then came the gentle sound of a female voice. _//But no more. This is no way to live. I will not be afraid any more.//_ The voice faded and his heart seemed to throb against his rib-cage. He grasped at the doorframe. For a few seconds he stood there stunned and then voiced the one burning thought on his mind.  
  
"Oloriel?"  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Much better, Aiwë! I think you may be getting the hang of this." Kallindo encouraged her between the clangs of metal on metal.  
  
Oloriel had met with Kallindo that afternoon to practice with the long-knives again. They were each using a pair of blades, Oloriel having given up on the idea of using just one. Kallindo had remonstrated with her, saying that it was necessary to be able to fight well with just one in case circumstances ever made it necessary, but Oloriel chose to be stubborn this day.  
  
"You made me work with only one long-knife on my day off and I ended up with a wounded ego and a scratched neck." Oloriel pointed to where Kallindo's blade had rested against her throat. There was a tiny red line there, indicating the truthfulness of her statement. "Now you wouldn't want to be so cruel as to put a poor little maiden like myself through all that again, would you?" She teased, looking up at him with eyes widened in innocent accusation.  
  
Kallindo paused in his tracks. "Did I really scratch you?" A look of concern crossed his features. But when Oloriel gave him an odd look he quickly reprimanded himself for being so over-protective, and slipped back into the light-hearted fray. Clutching his heart dramatically he inquired, "Did you lose much blood over the affair? Oh how could I have been so heartless? Do you feel strong enough to walk? Here, let me carry you back to your flet to lie down." With that he scooped her off her feet and began walking back in the opposite direction.  
  
"Kallindo! Kallindo put me down!"  
  
"Ah, but the lady is injured."  
  
"If you don't put me down this instant you will be injured in more places than one." Oloriel threatened.  
  
Kallindo let a grin spread over his face. "As the lady wishes."  
  
He gently placed her down on her feet, and she spun around quickly, hands on hips.  
  
"In recompense for the indignity suffered because of this last performance, we are most definitely working with _two_ long-knives today."  
  
Kallindo knew not to mess with that look. "I suppose I brought this upon myself," he sighed. "Very well, it will be as the lady wishes."  
  
That is how the afternoon started. They had now been working for over two hours. Both were dusty and a little disheveled, but still enthusiastically ducking, plunging and parrying blows. Oloriel had just managed to extricate herself from a very sticky situation, and it was this move that had prompted Kallindo to praise her improvement.  
  
"Well, I do generally take to sharp, pointy objects rather quickly." Oloriel called back between blows. She had been having an immensely good time that afternoon. She did not feel uncomfortable around Kallindo, and he seemed to be acting like his normal, friendly self.  
  
Kallindo chuckled as he sidestepped a swipe from Oloriel's blade. "Speaking of sharp and pointy objects. There is, as I'm sure you are aware, going to be a celebratory feast in seven nights. I hear that there will also be dancing. Would you allow me to escort you?"  
  
Oloriel was startled and fumbled her blades a little as he said this, but recovered in time to keep Kallindo from flicking them out of her hands. "What does that have to do with sharp pointy objects?" she inquired, trying to avoid the question.  
  
Kallindo smirked. "It's just that I expected you to throw several of them at me when I asked you."  
  
Oloriel could not help laughing at this. "I suppose that all depends on what your intentions are. Are you asking me because you can't get any other maiden to attend with you, and I am your last hope? Or is it that you feel sorry for me? Or, even better, is it because you are _desperately_ in love with me?" As she asked this she managed to flick one of Kallindo's knives out of his hand. For several moments he had to concentrate on parrying her two knives with his one, but finally he responded.  
  
"You are wrong on all counts, my dear Aiwë. I asked you because…"   
  
She nicked his hand, and he lost his last blade.   
  
"… I enjoy your company."  
  
She stood poised, both knives held up in front of her. "To throw or not to throw?" She raised her eyebrows and smirked at Kallindo, who was attempting to not look nervous. "It's a very hard decision. The satisfaction of impaling you weighed with the satisfaction of getting dressed up in an uncomfortably grand gown just for the opportunity of being able to have my toes stepped on by dance partners. Hmm…"  
  
"If it's any consolation," Kallindo offered, "I have been told that I dance very well, and I promise not to step on your toes."   
  
"Well now, how could I reject such a grand offer: a dance partner that won't injure me - what a miracle. No she-elf could resist… Oh very well," she let her hands fall to her sides, "I will not impale you."  
  
Kallindo grinned, then turned to pick up his fallen knives. It wasn't exactly an enthusiastic acceptance, but it was close enough. He raised the knives in a defensive posture, and then, his eyes twinkling with laughter, addressed her. "Shall we dance?"  
  
She smiled and brought her own knives to the ready. Soon the clearing was filled with the sharp impact of flying metal.  
  
***  
  
1. Eru is the supreme God; he created the Valar  
2. This is just a rip-off of Lord Byron's "She walks in beauty like the night". * I couldn't find the Sindarin word for beauty, so I went with _aglar_= "glory, brilliance"  
  
Names to Know:  
  
Oloriel: "dream daughter"  
Kallindo: "noble heart"  
Aiwë: (Kallindo's nickname for Oloriel) "small bird"  
  
Olórë Mallë: Path of Dreams  


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Orangeblossom Took: Glad you liked the scene with Arwen and Elladan. That was one of those things that I totally didn't know was gonna happen until it came flowing out of my keyboard. Those can actually be some of the best moments. = )

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Bratprincess: I know the feeling. I hope you get some rest and can review 'properly' on this chapter. = ) Yeah, Kallindo is certainly in a precarious situation. It may get even stickier for him...???...

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TigerLily713: Wow! What a great compliment... "though I do think you timed it perfectly!"... I am very flattered. It's hard to time everything out just because I'm not that organized, so I usually start each chapter not knowing exactly how far things are going to go, or when they'll get there. I just write what feels good. Glad that it came out right! = ) 

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Lasse-Lanta: Never fear, even though the review did not show up on ff.net, I did receive it in my inbox. You should find the reply to it at the end of the last chapter. = ) Yay!!! My favorite review ..."quite original"... I'm glad that you find the idea intriguing. That is what finally gave me the gumption to write my first fanfic, I thought that I might actually have a new idea! It's so hard to re-use ideas, because you might not live up to the current standards. ; ) Thanks for the compliment.

  
  
*~*Oh please, oh please, oh please review… I get my kicks from reviews! It's like waking up in the morning to breakfast in bed, like finding a $20 bill in the pocket of your winter coat that you haven't worn for a year, like diving into a pool when it's ninety degrees out and you just finished mowing the lawn… I need, I need! ; )  
  



	10. A New Moon

Disclaimer: You know the routine...

Things you need to know about this story...  
1.) Elven dreams are very realistic  
2.) Elves shouldn't normally meet *real* people along the Olórë Mallë (Path of Dreams)... but something happens in this story that is not normal  
  
Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. ( ) signals a footnote.  
  
A/N: Remember the feast/dance that Kallindo asked to escort Oloriel to? Well, we're now calling it the _Merendë Enyalië_, which is celebrated by the elves of both realms, and commemorates the new year (Why? Because I said so…). I had the fellowship leave a week or two earlier than canon. They probably left Rivendell at (or shortly after) the end of December, but in my story they left a week or two before. Got it? Good…  
  
___________________  
  
Chapter 10.) A New Moon  
  
***  
_"Ornamental clouds compose an evening love song;  
…The new moon begins a new chapter of our nights."_

Rainer Maria Rilke 

***  
  
Recap: Same day as last chapter. Elladan is going out to inspect the security of the southern border of Imladris with his brother. Oloriel has agreed, more or less, to attend the Merendë Enyalië(1) with Kallindo.   
  
  
"All things seem to be in order." Elladan announced, turning back to where his brother stood, gazing out over the pass.  
  
They had spent the morning and most of the afternoon roving across the southern reaches of their father's realm, from patrol post to patrol post, gathering information about the defenses that held the darkness at bay. There had been few disturbances of late, but it was not healthy to grow too comfortable. The east had seen more problems, dealing with goblins from inside the mountain, but the south was an equally vulnerable border, were evil to strike with full force.   
  
"I agree," Elrohir finally answered. "A few more guard posts positioned up river, and a new supply of herbs and medicines for the healing post, and things will be in quite good order." He turned and grinned at his brother. "Now that the work is over, shall we play?"  
  
Elladan turned a suspicious eye on his brother. "Will I like this game you are playing at?"  
  
"Brother! Do you really have so little faith in me?" Elrohir exclaimed in mock pain. Recovering quickly, he flashed a brilliant smile and added, "Do not worry, what I have planned will not put us in danger of another irate lecture from Lord Erestor. It'll be just a little bit of innocent fun."   
  
"Very well, lead on."   
  
Elrohir made his way casually down the ridge that they had been standing on. Slowly winding through various trails they came closer and closer to the sparkling waters of the Southern Bruinen, which fed into the Bruinen just before it reached the Ford. The sun was bright, though the air held a slight tinge of winter. The rushing music of the water was getting louder as they neared its banks, but before they rounded an out-cropping of trees, which hid the waters from their view, another sound came floating to them: laughter – female laughter. Elladan stopped in his tracks.  
  
"What are _elleths_ {she-elves} doing out here?" Elladan asked in surprise.   
  
"Oh, that must be the Ladies Arinel and Lúnyellë. I had forgotten that they come here to do their washing on this day every week."  
  
Somehow Elladan did not believe that his brother had 'forgotten' anything of the sort. "And why would they be washing on any day?" he inquired, "Lady Arinel is the daughter of Lord Beledhel. As such she should have plenty of handmaidens to carry out this work for her. And Lady Lúnyellë is in much the same position."  
  
"Lady Arinel takes a peculiar delight in getting her hands dirty – it's really quite endearing – and Lúnyellë never objects to joining in. I believe they make a day of it – coming out here to wash, that is. I once heard her say that they usually take along a basket of food and stay out all afternoon letting the clothes dry. Shall we drop in and see if they have any provisions to spare?"  
  
Elladan gave his brother a withering stare. "I have the feeling that you already know that they have food to spare. It seems that you are becoming quite forgetful in your old age, my dear brother. Maybe I should thump your head against this tree to straighten things out up there."  
  
Elrohir grinned, unfazed. "Oh don't bother, it isn't necessary. Now that you mention it, I think it's all coming back to me. Perhaps I _did_ say something to them about dropping by… I guess we'll find out." Elrohir latched on to Elladan's arm. "Come brother, you danced with Lúnyellë last night, and said that she had a very pleasing manner and was capable of intelligent conversation. How bad could it be?"  
  
"I'm not worried about the maiden nearly as much as I'm worried about my brother, 'Elrohir the Matchmaker'. You have that calculating look in your eye, and it never fails to make me concerned over what devious plots you are cooking up in that addled brain of yours."   
  
"Trust me brother, you don't even want to know."   
  
With that, Elrohir stepped out from behind the trees, pulling his brother with him. There was no going back now.  
  
~~~  
  
"Lady Lúnyellë, you really do have a marvelous voice; you should favor the Hall of Fire(2) with it more often."   
  
Elrohir had been charming the ladies for the last half-hour. Elladan found it quite amusing to watch him in action.  
  
"Why, I daresay even Glorfindel could not find fault with it. Wouldn't you agree, Elladan?" Elrohir turned his 'calculating' eyes back on his brother.  
  
Elladan smirked inwardly. 'So that's the game, is it? I can play at that.' He let a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. In truth, he did not think her voice quite compared with that of Oloriel, which had a unique and mellow quality, but he would oblige his brother this time. Turning his eyes toward the lady in question, he replied. "I wholeheartedly agree. It would be very hard to find fault with such a voice, especially when coming from such a lady."  
  
Elrohir did not inherit all of the charm.  
  
Lady Lúnyellë smiled softly, but did not blush. She knew that this was all playful banter, and would not be easily touched. Elladan liked her all the better for it. But he was not going to be easily touched either.  
  
"I have been telling her this for decades," Lady Arinel's merry voice slipped into the conversation, "But she refuses to parade her talent in front of any large audience. I used to be disappointed by my failed attempts at persuasion, but now I try to look on the bright side – I get to keep her almost all to myself! There's nothing like having a private songbird."  
  
"And how do you feel about being 'kept', my lady?" Elladan inquired of Lúnyellë, his eyebrow raised in question.  
  
Lúnyellë smiled slyly, "I am not opposed to it… so long as I wish to be kept. And since Arinel has ever been a dear friend, I will let her revel in her possessive delusions."   
  
Elrohir chuckled. "Not the most diplomatic answer, but a good one none the less."  
  
~~~  
  
"So, what did you think? That wasn't too bad, was it?" Elrohir asked playfully.  
  
The ladies had headed back to the heart of Imladris, and Elrohir and Elladan were wandering through the forest just outside the city.  
  
"It was a pleasant afternoon." Elladan replied.  
  
"But…?"  
  
"What makes you think there is a 'but' coming? The afternoon was enjoyable; both ladies are quite pleasant."  
  
"_And_…?"  
  
"And what? If you want me to understand you, you'll have to use more than monosyllables."  
  
"And… what are you going to do about the pleasant Lady Lúnyellë?"  
  
"I haven't the foggiest idea." Elladan replied. "But, since you are obviously going to tell me what _you_ think I should do with Lúnyellë, I suppose it doesn't matter much what ideas I have floating around in my head."  
  
"You can have quite a thick skull at times do you know that? It's painfully obvious. You should ask to escort her to the Merendë Enyalië."  
  
Elladan sighed. "I don't know about that, brother. She is pleasant enough – and yes, I find her more agreeable than many other maidens in Imladris – but I'm not sure that this is such a good idea. She probably would not want to put up with me for the whole evening."  
  
"She just put up with you for over two hours. Why do you always condemn yourself before the trial? She would probably be very pleased to go with you."  
  
Elladan felt it was time to turn the tables. "And what of you? You have cast more than one admiring gaze on Lady Arinel. Will you escort her?"  
  
Elrohir's face fell a little. "Well I… I haven't asked her yet."  
  
Elladan could not help grinning at his brother's sheepish countenance. "Don't tell me you are apprehensive about asking a maiden to a dance. My brother? Why I thought everyone fell at your feet? I thought you were confidence itself."  
  
"It is never wise to be overly confident when approaching a maiden, brother. I am not sure if she looks on me in that way, and I've yet to work up the courage to ask her. But I will ask her, believe me, and so I'm still doing better than you are."   
  
"You have nothing to fear, brother. How could she resist such a handsome, charming fellow?"  
  
Elrohir looked fondly at his brother. "We're twins, Elladan. I am only as handsome as you are, and I have no more charm than you have though I show it in a different way. Why this confidence in me when you have none for yourself?" Elrohir sighed and turned earnest eyes toward Elladan, placing a hand on his shoulder.   
  
"I know you think that I have no worries and that I bask in the glow of admiration and popularity, but do not be fooled by appearances. I can still feel lonely in a crowd of people. It is still only those who are truly close to me that fill my heart. The difference between us is that I am determined to bring more people close to me, because I believe that my heart can hold much more. Yours can as well, but you have to work at it. People are unpredictable, and you can never know how they're going to act, or whether or not they will accept you. But, brother… don't give up on them until you try."  
  
Elladan gazed at his brother thoughtfully, his eyes taking on a distant look. Finally he spoke. "I don't know if you remember or not, but one time, when we were quite young, you pulled me into another one of your crazy schemes. It didn't go so well, and after being lectured by a fuming _adar_ {father}, we ended up having to scrub for hours to remove all of the honey. I remember telling you, in such a way as only an angry elf-ling can, that you were a brother sent from Melkor, and that I wished you would get swept away in the river and captured by a band of marauding orcs."   
  
Elrohir cast an amused look at his brother. 'Where is this going?'  
  
Elladan clasped his brother arm and continued, "I just wanted to say… that I take it all back. You're not such a bad brother after all."   
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Oloriel stood leaning on her balcony railing, taking in the starlit view. Everything was very peaceful and calm, sleeping in the quiet shadows cast by the trees.   
  
_Isil_ {the moon} was absent this night. Its crescent shape had decreased over the last few nights until it was no longer visible. Soon it would be reborn.   
  
In its absence the stars seemed to shine brighten than before. Their silvery beams fell like a balm upon her face and hands and body. She felt like dancing as Tinúviel had danced, beneath the star-studded sky. But as soon as she let this thought creep into her mind, she could not help but think of Beren also. And from thinking of Beren it was a short leap to thinking of lovers in general, and from lovers in general it was a short leap to thinking of potential lovers. From there, the next leap led her smack into the stone wall that was Kallindo.   
  
She sighed softly. She had been able to genuinely enjoy his company this day, but still, the thought of attending the Merendë Enyalië with him in seven nights filled her with trepidation. What would come of it? She did not know.   
  
Glancing back up at the sky, she tried to force the unpleasant thoughts from her head. Her heart became lighter as she breathed deeply the cool night air. She could not help it; the urge to sway beneath the music of the stars was too great. Unfortunately, a small balcony does not lend itself well to dancing. She gracefully swirled once, arms raised to the heavens, and promptly ran her toe into a small wooden chair that sat in the corner. Only by the narrowest margin did Oloriel manage to hold in the curses that threatened to flow from her mouth.  
  
'And I was worried about Kallindo stepping on _my_ toes?' She smiled wryly. 'Fortunately for him I happen to be an excellent healer.'  
  
With that she headed off to bed.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"How is my _laes gwathel_ {baby sister} this evening?" Elladan came up behind Arwen, wrapping her in his arms.   
  
"Really, Elladan, I am over two thousand years old – hardly a baby any more."  
  
Elladan chuckled, then released her from his grasp. He stepped up next to her, where she stood looking out a window toward the west. A magnificent sunset was bringing a glorious close to the day.   
  
"You didn't answer the question, Undomiel."   
  
Arwen arched her delicate eyebrow. "I abstain."  
  
"Very well, I will not press you for it."  
  
Arwen smiled and gently bent her head down to rest on Elladan's shoulder. After a few moments of silence she softly spoke.  
  
"It was a day like this when I first met him."  
  
"Aragorn?"  
  
"Mmm," Arwen murmured in assent. "_Anar_ {the sun} went down in blazing glory that day, and we watched, atop the talan at Cerin Amroth(3). He said that the sky was as beautiful as a song… then he said that I was as beautiful as a song… and, well, I believe you get the general idea."  
  
Elladan smiled down at his sister. "I believe I do. And what does the sky sing of tonight?"  
  
Arwen smiled to herself. "That is between me and the sky."  
  
~~~  
  
Elladan burrowed under the covers. It was not very cold out, but the blankets still provided welcomed warmth. He turned his face toward the sky, which he could see through the opening to his balcony. The stars sparkled merrily in the silky black sky. Elladan smiled as he took in their cool beauty, then resting beneath their gentle watch he fell asleep.  
  
  
His reality faded into an oddly familiar scene. All around him graceful, silver trunks stretched up into the air, their boughs covered in golden leaves. A soft warm glow seemed to emanate from everything, and a pulsing light slowly rippled across the ground. He had been there before. The second time he had seen Oloriel they had met in this dreamscape. She had led him on a merry chase through the woods, and out into open spaces. He smiled softly at the memory. This was also the place where she had healed his injury. He started at the thought. 'I had almost forgotten about that. I still don't know how she could have done it.'  
  
As he was musing, he began to be aware of a soft whispering among the leaves, as if the very trees were speaking. Then he felt something fall against his head. He turned; there on the path lay a small piece of discarded silver bark. A few more pieces of bark flew down at him. He looked up into the trees, but could see nothing. The rustling in the leaves became louder. He turned every which way but could catch no glimpse of anything out of the ordinary. Suddenly a merry laugh was mixed in with the whispering of the trees. It echoed around him, and so it was impossible to locate the source of the laughter. He was becoming very confused indeed.  
  
"I'm over here silly," Oloriel's voice came from over his head.   
  
There, in a branch many feet above him, sat Oloriel, dressed in silvery gray.  
  
"You know, you really should try to look bewildered more often," she continued, "It's quite an endearing expression."  
  
Elladan was not quite sure if he should be feeling amused or annoyed. "How did you get up there?" he questioned, "There aren't any limbs near enough to the ground."  
  
"Ah, but I don't need limbs when I have a ladder. You can find it on the other side of this tree."  
  
Elladan walked behind the tree, and sure enough, hanging from a limb far above his head, was a silky gray rope ladder. Swiftly he climbed up, and was soon sitting on a branch just below where Oloriel sat. For an odd moment he felt like an elf-ling, sitting on a stool at his _naneth's_ {mother's} feet, waiting to hear a bed-time story. He chuckled and pushed the image from his mind.   
  
"And what, pray tell do you find so amusing?" questioned Oloriel.  
  
Elladan did not really feel like telling her, so he changed the subject entirely. "We have been here before." He said, looking around him at the forest floor below.  
  
Oloriel chose to ignore his evasion. "Yes, we have. I have been here many times. It is a place of peace."  
  
"It's beautiful."  
  
Oloriel inclined her head in agreement, and then they both sat there in silence for some time, listening to the music of the leaves as they were blown in a soft wind.  
  
"Are you often wrong?" Oloriel interrupted the companionable silence.  
  
Elladan's brow creased, and he turned his face toward her. 'Where did that come from?' he wondered.   
  
"I mean," Oloriel stuttered slightly, "I mean… does your council often go astray. Is it sound."  
  
"I think that concerning my own thought and opinions I would have a rather… _biased_ opinion."  
  
Oloriel gave him a dry look.   
  
"Perhaps," Elladan continued, "If you would tell me what exactly you are referring to, I could give you a better answer."  
  
"I am referring to the advice you gave me last night. I adhered to it today, and somehow ended up agreeing to attend the Merendë Enyalië with Kallindo. Do you celebrate Merendë Enyalië in Imladris?"  
  
"Yes we do. And this Kallindo is the elf you spoke of last night?"  
  
"Yes. I'm not quite sure how it all happened, but I'm sure it's your fault. And if I have a horrendous evening that night, and usher in the new year on a sour note, I shall know who to blame." Oloriel looked imperiously at Elladan. He couldn't help returning her gaze with an amused smile.  
  
"Well, to answer your first question I will say this: Let me know how it goes and I might actually take my own advice."  
  
Oloriel looked quizzically at Elladan. "What is that supposed to mean?"  
  
Elladan sighed. "My dear lady, it means that I am in some ways just as socially backward as you are, though for very different reasons. And that even though I still believe my council to be quite sound, I have yet to follow my own advice."   
  
"But… but how can a great Elven lord be socially backward?"  
  
Elladan chuckled. "You've got the wrong elf – my father is the great Elven lord. I am just one of the lesser species."  
  
Oloriel continued to protest. "But how can you expect me to take advice that you won't follow yourself?"  
  
"Because, our situations are slightly different. You are afraid of being loved, and I gave you advice accordingly."  
  
Oloriel looked intently at Elladan, then replied. "And what are you afraid of, my lord?"  
  
Elladan rested his head against the tree and thought for a moment. "Of _not _being loved. Of being rejected… of being misunderstood."  
  
"And is this any better than being afraid of love? Both maladies seem to keep us back from what we really want. Either way, we're both still afraid."  
  
Elladan's brown eyes slowly met with Oloriel's green ones. "The lady is wise." Elladan whispered.  
  
With a twinkle in her eye Oloriel replied, "Sometimes, my lord… sometimes."  
  
Suddenly an idea popped into Elladan's head. "Shall we make an experiment of it then?"  
  
"An experiment of what?"  
  
"Of the Merendë Enyalië. My brother has been pestering me to ask a one Lady Lúnyellë to attend with me. Until now I was not very enthusiastic about the idea, but perhaps it was not such a bad one after all. You will attend with this Kallindo, and I will attend with Lúnyellë, and that night we will compare notes – see if it was worth the effort."  
  
A small smile inched across Oloriel's face. "An assignment to gather information, not a date(4). I think looking at it that way will make the night easier." She laughed softly. "I accept your proposition."  
  
Elladan grinned back at her. 'Perhaps there is more to this _elleth_ than just pretty green eyes.'  
  
***  
  
1. Merendë Enyalië: "Festival to Remember". I wanted it to be 'festival of remembrance', but I wasn't sure how to manipulate the verb properly. The idea is that this festival is a time to remember (and learn from) what has happened over the past year, both good and bad, and to celebrate the coming of a new year.

2. The Hall of Fire is the gathering place in Imladris for singing and story telling.

3. Cerin Amroth is in LothLorien. I believe that an elven king used to reside there, but now it is more of a landmark. There is an enormous mallorn tree there, with a large talan/flet high up in the branches. (I believe that Arwen first met Aragorn in LothLorien. I could be wrong about that though…)

4. Isn't it terrible that I called it a date? Can you even imagine two elves going on a date?! It's heresy I'm sure… but I couldn't come up with a better word!… sorry…  
  


Names to Know:  
  
Oloriel: "dream daughter"  
Kallindo: "noble heart"  
Arinel: "morning star"  
Lúnyellë: "blue bell"  


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TigerLily713: What else can I say but, "Thank You!" Once I get done posting this I'll be off to read the update on your own story. I can't wait! = ) **Everyone go read TigerLily's stories!**

Concetta: Thanks bunches! I'm not going to say anything about the future love lives of Elladan, Oloriel, and Kallindo... but I will say that I'm working desperately to figure out a stylish way to give them all happy endings. Of course we'll be hitting some rough waters before we get there, but I hope you like the end result. = ) I'll consider the dance idea. I don't think they'll meet that way, but I'll find some way to incorporate it. 

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Narikia: I'm very flattered. One of the best you say? I'll try to live up to that expectation. Hope you liked this chapter.

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Aldrea: I know exactly what you mean. You're sitting in front of the computer screen after midnight, trying to read despite the pounding of your head and the blurring of your eyes, and you still get mad when there's not more to read! Glad I inspire such enthusiasm... but don't forget to sleep as well!

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Bratprincess: Thank you for an entirely flattering review. I'm glowing. You've graced with some of the best praise: consistency, believability, and originality. Here's your reward! Hoped you liked the slightly longer chapter (I think it's my longest so far).

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Cerridwen: Well, I'm definitely gonna keep plugging away as long as I can. = )

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icy878: Glad you like it, and thanks for the very enthusiastic review. People seem to differ on which twin was quite and which one wasn't. I'm not sure if it matters much. I ended up using Elladan because I've seen Elrohir used more. I always go for the under-god. = ) Glad you like her name, even though it's a little unorthodox. I was kind of out of it when I was picking names and I ended up giving a bunch of Sindarin elves, Quenyan names (so shoot me!), and then in another burst of stupidity, I ended up accidentally attaching the Sindarin 'iel' to her name instead of the Quenyan 'ien'. So there you have it, that's where Oloriel came from. I like it even if it is bad Elven usage. ^_~

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Orangeblossom **Took**: Elrond really is a good ada. I definitely wanted Elladan to have a supportive family. He needs some help to get back up off the ground. I have to admit that I can't get very detailed with the sparring scenes because I have no experience with blades... but at least I can have them spar with words. = ) Glad you liked the scene. 

~Iluvien~

  
*~*Oh please, oh please, oh please review… I get my kicks from reviews! It's like waking up in the morning to breakfast in bed, like finding a $20 bill in the pocket of your winter coat that you haven't worn for a year, like diving into a pool when it's ninety degrees out and you just finished mowing the lawn… I need, I need! ; )  



	11. Voices and Visions

Disclaimer: blah-blah-blah... Tolkien's stuff isn't mine... blah-blah-blah... OCs are mine... blah-blah-blah... don't sue me...

Things you need to know about this story...

1.) Elven dreams are very realistic

2.) Elves shouldn't normally meet *real* people along the Olórë Mallë (Path of Dreams)... but something happens in this story that is not normal

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. ( ) signals a footnote.

A/N: Up to this point I have given all my OCs Quenyan names, but tried to stick with Sindarin when I have had them speak (since this is probably the dialect of Elvish that they would actually use in everyday speech). However this can sometimes be difficult since Sindarin was not developed by J.J.R.T. as fully as Quenyan was. In this chapter I have a few phrases that I suspect may actually be Quenyan, but since they are pretty generic phrases I felt it was possible that even those who primarily speak Sindarin might have used them.

________________

Chapter 11.) Voices and Visions

***

"Again that Voice, which on my listening ears

Falls like star-music filtering through the spheres"

James Rhoades 

***

Time: Two days before the Merendë Enyalie, a festival to celebrate the coming new year.

Oloriel stretched lazily as she tried but failed to stifle a yawn. She scolded herself for her lethargy and continued to braid the sides of her hair. When not hanging free, she usually just put her hair up into one long braid, but this morning she was trying something a little more intricate. 

When she finally completed her task she looked curiously at herself in the mirror. She had braided locks of hair intermittently throughout the shining mass, and as an afterthought had even laced a small red ribbon, which matched the gown she was wearing, through the lock that fell from her right temple. The ribbon had been unearthed from the bottom of one of her old chests when she was rummaging around in them earlier that morning. The true aim of her quest, however, had been to find a small box, which contained a necklace that had belonged to her mother.

It was simple but beautiful necklace, consisting of a thin chain of mithril, hung with a small green stone carved into the likeness of a leaf. The veins of the leaf were also inlayed with mithril. She had sought it out because, for the first time in many long years, she felt she might have some use for it.

Her conversation with Elladan the night before had given her the determination to go through with attending the Merendë Enyaliëwith Kallindo. And now that she had firmly made her mind up on the matter, she decided that she might as well do it right. It had been some time before she had spruced herself up for a festival, but she was confident that she could still remember how. 

Now that she had found the necklace, and reassured herself that something could be done with her hair, the only other issue to tackle was the dress. She had a few nice dresses, but most of them were rather old, and had seen too many dances and feasts. There was one that could perhaps be dolled up, but for the first time in quite a while she felt the urge to get something new. With this determination she withdrew several coins from her keep and departed her flet. As a handmaiden and charge of the Lady Galadriel she had access to anything she might need, but Oloriel would not think of accepting aid for finery. She would buy a new dress for herself with her own money. She knew that Írima was acquainted with a good seamstress, so she decided to seek her out first.

On the way there she passed by many other elves, some of whom she was acquainted with. She paused along the path several times to exchange greetings and pleasantries with them. Finally she turned off the main paths to head toward Írima's flet. She was half way there when she ran into none other than Kallindo. He seemed to be hurrying somewhere, but he slowed down immediately when he saw Oloriel.

"_Quel amrun_, Aiwë! _Mae govannen _{Good morning, Aiwë! Well met.}," He said cheerily.

"_Vedui _{greetings}" she replied. "And where are you off to so quickly?"

"Patrol duty on the northern border. Voronwë asked me to trade shifts with him, and I was just on my way to your flet to ask if we could put off our training session for today. I will not be back until rather late in the evening." Kallindo raised his brows in question.

"It is fine, Kallindo; this will be my day off, and we will practice tomorrow."

Kallindo nodded his head slightly, showing he had heard, but instead of heading toward the north he just stood there for a moment looking at her. He took in her new appearance. It had been months since he had seen her hair down like this. And the intense red of the dress she wore brought out the color of her cheeks and contrasted well with her pale skin. Slowly, almost unconsciously, he reached out a hand and touched the ribboned braid that came down from her temple.

"_Lle thia-bain sen aur _{You look(1) beautiful this morning}" he whispered.

Oloriel was trying desperately to remain calm. She decided that the best way to take control of the situation was to get them both back on familiar ground. She raised an eyebrow and shot back, "Are you implying that I don't look beautiful every morning?"

A smile crept across Kallindo's face; he let his hand fall to his side. "_N'uma, i'hiril ná uir bain_ {No, the lady is ever beautiful}." 

Before he had the chance to continue his flattering words, Oloriel broke in. "Should you not be heading on your way? I would hate to be the cause of your tardiness. The Captain of the Guard would hardly approve."

Kallindo nodded briskly, "Aye, I should be going." 

He took as step forward, and then, before she could stop him, he kissed her on the cheek, and whispered,"_Tenna' tul're_ {Until tomorrow}." With that he strode off into the maze of trees.

Turning abruptly to watch his retreating form, Oloriel managed to squeak out, "_Quel fara _{good hunting}."

Slowly she raised her hand to the place where Kallindo had kissed her. She could feel a blush rising up beneath her fingers. For several seconds she had to resist the urge to scrub the last vestiges of the disturbing kiss off her cheek. As she stood there, stunned, her mind was trying desperately to decide whether she should be pleased or infuriated. In the end she settled on being annoyed and flustered. 

"Elladan, you've done it again." She whispered under her breath, "I'm sure this is entirely your fault. When I agreed to your plan you never told me what kind of information I'd be gathering."

With that said she huffed off toward Írima's home. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Arwen had invited Elladan and Elrohir to share a late breakfast with her in her private chambers. They had finished eating some time ago, and were now sitting around the table outside in the bright sunshine. Elrohir was presently in the middle of reciting a tale of his recent romantic misadventure. 

"And so, after finally arranging a way in which I could just 'happen to run into' the girl, _and _after spending the last _hour and a half_ constructing – and rehearsing – all the things that I would say, I set off on my quest in a fairly amiable mood. I went to the stables to get my horse, and while I was there, who should I run into but Anarseldo, grinning like an elf-ling with a new toy. I would have ignored him if I could, so intent was I on my mission, but he accosted me and insisted on sharing his wonderful bit of news. As it turns out, Lady Arinel had, that very morning, agreed to let him court her. After informing me of this, he went on for the next fifteen minutes praising her beauty and intelligence and kindness and every other venerable quality under the sun, and all I could do was stand there, with a smile on my face, pretending like I was happy for him!"

Elladan chuckled, "So Lady Arinel is out of your reach then? You waited too long brother, you always do."

"Well at least I'm trying." Elrohir shot back.

Arwen began laughing merrily. "You are _both _pitiful in my opinion. I mean really, the two of you continually call me _laes gwathel _{baby sister}, but I am the only one among us who has a blossoming love life. I suppose the two of you just late bloomers."

The twins turned identical pairs of glowering eyes on her. She smiled merrily back, thoroughly immune to their burning gaze. Finally Elladan broke the staring contest.

"Actually, I may not be blooming as late as you believe. I think I shall even shock Elladan when I inform you of my news." There was silence for several moments.

"You didn't?" Elrohir questioned. His eyes widened in disbelief as he took in his brother's calm demeanor. "You did! Why, even I didn't think my powers of persuasion were that good."

"What has he done?" inquired Arwen.

Elrohir took another look at his brother and then, smiling, replied, "He's asked Lady Lúnyellë to attend the Merendë Enyalië with him."

"And," Elladan added, "She has accepted."

Arwen turned appraising eyes on Elladan. "Lúnyellë is a lovely woman, and very clever I hear. I didn't know she was clever enough to catch you, though."

Elladan rolled his eyes. "Lady Lúnyellë has not caught me yet, sister. But I'll admit she has intrigued me. We'll see what happens." 

Elrohir was about to begin praising his own talents as a matchmaker, when suddenly Elladan's hand jerked, knocking a glass, and a bowl of fruit on the ground. Elrohir scooted back from the table just in time to miss being drenched with grape juice. 

"Brother, what in all of Arda – "

"Elladan!" Arwen gasped. Her brother's eyes seemed to have frosted over. She grabbed his arm to steady him as he slumped forward in his chair slightly.

Elladan was experiencing the same sensations that had come upon him several days ago in his father's library. A slight rushing in his ears, a throbbing in his chest, and then a voice – an undeniably feminine voice. _//Elladan, you've done it again. I'm sure this is entirely your fault. When I agreed to your plan you never told me what kind of information I'd be gathering.// _Slowly the world began to come back into focus. He took in a shaky breath, and then raised bewildered eyes to his siblings, who were standing over him.

"It happened again. I had forgotten it, passed it off as a delusion, but it happened again."

Elrohir looked confusedly at his sister, then back at his twin. "What happened again?"

Elladan sighed. It seemed that he had quite a bit of explaining to do.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elrond stood at the casement with a look of concentration on his face. It was known to many that the half-elf had the gift of foresight, but what was not generally known was how infuriating this gift could be. 

All morning he had been plagued with a sense of foreboding, a sense that there was something that he should know, but that he could not quite make out; it continually remained just beyond the edge of his consciousness. He was bending all of his thought toward it now: stretching out his mind, sending his senses to their furthest reach. After several minutes he was still coming up empty handed. Exasperated, he was about to give up the search when suddenly a flash of light seemed to pass before his eyes. His mind became filled with a vision of three riders, speeding along a road. The riders were clearly Elven, and they seemed to be fleeing from some evil. Elrond was able to glimpse enough of their surroundings to ascertain that they were travelling on the East-West road toward Imladris, but were still at least an hour from reaching the Ford. As he came to this realization the vision ending. 

The intensity of the vision suggested that what he had seen was very soon at hand. There was just enough time to send aid. With a determined stride Elrond left his study and made for his daughter's quarters, where he suspected all of his children would still be gathered.

When he entered his daughter's chambers he heard the voices of his children out on the balcony. As he made his way across the inner room, the words they were speaking began to come clear to him. He could here Arwen whisper, "Perhaps now you should speak to _ada _{father, informal}of this," and then he heard Elladan reply, "No… no, not yet." Under normal circumstances Elrond would have been quite intrigued by this snippet of conversation, but at present he simply did not have the time to think on it. 

"Elladan, Elrohir, you're assistance is required," he said, as he stepped through the curtains into the sun.

Elrohir stood up quickly, "Yes father, how can we be of service?"

"There is a party of three Elves riding hard toward Imladris. They appear to be in some sort of danger. I ask you to take a party out to meet them and insure their safe arrival. They will most likely be coming along the East road, but it is not certain – they may be driven off the road. You would do good to send word to the patrols along the western border and alert them of the situation."

"It shall be done father." It was Elladan who spoke now. "Elrohir and I will both go, and we will take along Pantaquárre, for he has some knowledge of the healing arts."

"Well chosen. You must leave as soon as possible. Go prepare yourself and collect what weapons you will need. I will send word to the stables to have three horses readied for you."

With that, the small family circle split, with Elladan and Elrohir racing to their rooms, their father going off in search of a servant, and their sister remaining to pick up stray pieces of fruit from the bowl that Elladan had knocked off the table.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It had been almost two hours since Arwen's brothers had left the hidden valley of Imladris. The time had not been spent idly. In the absence of a mother, Arwen had learned early on how to tackle the responsibility of running a household. She had sent word down to the healers to prepare themselves for service, and had taken a hand with her maidens in preparing three guestrooms. The cooks had also been instructed to stoke up their fires, to provide a repast for the weary travelers. Everything now sat in readiness; she had the gates of the city flung open to await her brothers' return. And there she stood, expectantly. 

'Always they go, and always I wait.' She thought distractedly. 'I wonder which one takes more courage.'

Finally, after the sun had begun to sink from its zenith, the steady drumbeat of hooves began to softly reverberate through the valley. Soon she began to catch glimpses of galloping horses through the leaves. 

Elrohir was the first to make it back through the gates of the city. In front of him, almost lying across his horse, he supported an injured _elleth_ {she-elf}with his left arm. She appeared to have an arrow protruding from her right thigh. With each bounce of the horse's gait she winced with suppressed pain. As he brought his mount to a halt, Elrohir gracefully leapt to the ground and gently lowered the maiden off of the horse. She attempted to put pressure on her right leg, but it was a futile attempt, the searing pain that shot up through her thigh was unbearable. With no regard for her protests, Elrohir swept her softly up into his arms.

"Brother, come!" Arwen commanded. "I have had the healers prepare a room for the injured. This way."

With a short nod Elrohir followed his sister up one of Imladris' many stairways. Behind them the rest of the party were dismounting. Two foreign elves spied Elrohir, carrying the lady, and quickly followed after him, along with Pantaquárre. Elladan watched them go. As much as he would have liked to join them, he knew that he should make sure that the horses were taken care of first. He was about to turn away and head for the stables when a flash of yellow caught his attention; it was Arwen's dress. She had turned on her way to the healing house; quickly she caught his eye and smiled. In that brief gaze she said all that was needed. 

"Thank you for coming back to me." 

*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Elladan flopped rather unceremoniously onto his bed. He let out a pleased sigh as he felt himself sink into the soft mattress. This day had certainly been an interesting one. The skirmish with the orcs that had been pursuing the three strange elves that morning had certainly worn him out a little bit. But the paperwork that his father had put him to this afternoon had been far more draining. His hand still felt slightly cramped from the endless scrawling of a pen.

And yet, despite his physical fatigue, his mind was still racing. He could not push the events of the morning out of his mind. He had heard her voice again; and he was sure it was _her_ voice. 'But how could that be?' he wondered anxiously. Everything about Oloriel confused him. None of this should be happening.

He lay there musing over this new mystery for some time. Sleepiness was beginning to tug at his mind, he wanted to surrender to it, but a stirring in the room behind him brought his attention back into focus.

"Elladan," the voice whispered.

His whole body tensed at the sound of that voice. 'Is it happening again?' he wondered. Slowly he turned on the bed, and there, standing inside the doorway to his room, was Oloriel. He blinked his eyes several times. 'Perhaps I'm going insane. Now I not only hear voices, but see visions.'

She looked curiously at him. "What is wrong, Elladan? Why do you look at me so?"

Should he reply to this vision? Perhaps if he ignored it, it would vanish. 

Oloriel was growing uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze. She tried to introduce a new topic of discussion. "This is certainly an odd dream. I have never be here before."

Elladan blinked. "A dream? Are we dreaming?"

Oloriel laughed. "Why yes of course we are – I'm here aren't I?"

"But this is my room. I wasn't even aware that I had fallen asleep."

Oloriel's brow furrowed in confusion. "How could I be dreaming of your room. I've never seen it before."

Elladan's mind was slowly starting to reconcile itself with this new confusion. "Perhaps…" he mused out loud, "Perhaps it is my dream now. After all," he flashed her a bright smile, "You can't have all the fun, now can you?"

She smirked back at him. "Well, at least it's a nice room. You have good taste in furniture."

"Thank you," Elladan replied, as he got up off his bed and walked over to the fireplace, which was flanked by two, comfortable-looking chairs. "And this chair," he continued, patting one of them on the backrest, "happens to be a very tasteful chair, so why don't you take a seat here."

Oloriel complied. Elladan sat in the chair across from her, and rubbed his face with his hands.

"Oloriel," he began, "You are having a very detrimental effect on my sense of reality." 

"My lord?" 

"Not only do you invade my dreams, but you are starting to invade my waking world, _and_ starting to confuse the line between the two. Why, this very morning, I could have sworn I heard your voice when I was sitting at the breakfast table. I think perhaps that I'm going insane. Can elves even go insane?" He favored her with an adorably exasperated look.

"You… you heard my voice?" she inquired.

"Yes. You said… now what was it… ah yes, you said that something was entirely my fault, and that, when you had agreed to my plan… you did not know what kind of information you would be gather."

Oloriel's face paled visibly. Her hand came up to her mouth in shock. "I said that... I did say that… right after Kallindo kissed me on the cheek. I was flustered, and all I could think was that you had gotten me into trouble again." She looked up and met Elladan's eyes. "And now that I think on it, there was also a time when I seemed to hear a voice. It was right before Írima gave birth. I think there were two male voices, and they were saying something about swooning and… and green eyes(2). Oh, but that doesn't make any sense, does it?"

Elladan could feel his cheeks color slightly. It made perfect sense to him. He could still remember Elrohir urging him not to fall for the dream maiden. He was glad that she didn't seem to remember any more of the conversation. The only reply he would give her was, "It makes sense to me. It sounds very much like a conversation that my brother and I had." 

"What does it all mean?" Oloriel's eyes had become wells of confusion. She seemed to be pleading, begging him for an answer. The anxiety in her seemed to be pouring out in waves. 

As he looked into those eyes he forgot what she had asked him, he even forgot what they had been speaking about. His whole world was spinning in those green orbs, and the only thought on his mind was wondering how he could light them up with joy again. He felt the sudden urge to wrap her up in his arms, and kiss the eyelids that protected those tremulous eyes – kiss them until the eyes beneath began to sparkle again. He almost reached out to touch her, when his mind snapped back into gear. He started a little and sat back quickly in his chair. He lowered his eyes from hers, and the spell was broken. The world came crashing back in on him, and for several moments he had to concentrate solely on getting enough air into his lungs.

'What did she ask me?' His mind racked through the memory of the past moments. His turbulent thoughts came out in words. "I don't know."

Thankfully, this seemed to be the right response to her question, for she let out a small sigh and whispered, "Neither do I. I suppose that only Ilúvatar {God/Eru} does."

For several minutes they sat in silence, not quite sure how to proceed from here. Finally Elladan decided that they needed to get their minds on other subjects.

"So, he kissed you, did he?"

Oloriel cocked an impudent eyebrow at him. Trying to make light of the situation, she replied, "Aye. That's more than you've got from your lady, I'll wager."

Elladan smirked at the veiled challenge. "Are you implying that a lady would not want to kiss or be kissed by me?"

Oloriel's eyes sparkled. "No comment."

Elladan's mind heaved a sigh of relief. Her eyes were full of life again.

***

1. The Sindarin word 'thia-'more literally translates as "appear". It was the closest word I could find for the idea I was trying to get at. 

2. This is what Oloriel over-heard: Elrohir – _"I tell you this now, brother, in all seriousness: do not swoon over 'green eyes' - she's not really there." _Elladan – _"I know."_

Names to Know:

Oloriel: "dream daughter"

Kallindo: "noble heart"

Arinel: "morning star"

Lúnyellë (loon-YELL-ey): "blue bell"

Voronwë: "steadfast"

Pantamá (PAHN-tah-ma): "open hand"

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TigerLily713: Wow! *It flowed like a silky fabric* What a great compliment. I'll have to frame it! ; ) Here, have a homemade cookie for such a good review.

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Concetta: I'm glad that you're so excited about this story. I just finished a little while ago… here it is, hot off the press… you can have a homemade cookie too *hands Concetta a steamy, warm chocolate chip cookie* . ^_~

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Elisabeth: Thank you so much! I'm blushing! Glad that you find my characters interesting in themselves. I've definitely tried to take all the time I need developing their personalities. I don't like rushing my characters into relationships or feelings without having a reason behind it all. I've tried my best to make everything three-dimensional. 

I was very flattered by your warm review… here, you can have two cookies, one for such a great review, and another for being new. I hope you keep reading and enjoying my story. = )

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Icy878: Well, you didn't get the festival in this chapter, but I promise it will be in the next one. Glad you like the relationship with the brothers. I never really intended to go so far with it, but I'm starting to have a lot of fun with the dynamic between Elladan and his family. 

Now before you beg me to up-date soon, I'll just tell you that the next chapter will be up by Saturday. For your enthusiasm and raving reviews I bestow on you the cherished Mint & Chocolate Chunk cookie… hope you like mint!

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To everyone else: No cookies for you because you didn't review! ^_~

*~*Oh please, oh please, oh please review… I get my kicks from reviews! It's like waking up in the morning to breakfast in bed, like finding a $20 bill in the pocket of your winter coat that you haven't worn for a year, like diving into a pool when it's ninety degrees out and you just finished mowing the lawn… I need, I need! ; )

~Ilúvien~ 


	12. Shall We Dance?

Disclaimer: You know the drill… see precious chapters

Things you need to know about this story...

1.) Elven dreams are very realistic

2.) Elves shouldn't normally meet *real* people along the Olórë Mallë (Path of Dreams)... but something happens in this story that is not normal

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

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By Request: An asterisk '*' will now signal a footnote. = )

A/N: **I will be gone** for two weeks starting the 5th of July. Sorry that you won't get another up-date for a while. I hope this *long* chapter will hold you all over! 

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Chapter 12.) Shall We Dance?

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"Thou dancer of two thousand years… What silent music fills thine ears?"  
– Robert Cameron Rogers

***

Time: Day of the Merendë Enyalië*

"_Mae aur_, Elrohir {Sindarin: good morning}." Elrond stood up from behind his desk. He and Elladan had been discussing special patrol duties for the festival to be held that night when Elrohir had made his entrance. 

"What news have you of our fair guest this morning?" Elrond inquired.

Elrohir had been the primary emissary between Elrond and the three strange elves that had appeared on their borders two days before. He had also taken a special interest in the injured _elleth _{she-elf}, helping with her recovery process. Before arriving at his father's study, he had spent the last twelve hours or so in the healing house, sitting through the night in quiet vigil, watching the maiden as she slept.

"She is much improved, _ada_. The fever broke late last evening, and she spent the rest of the night in peaceful sleep. As you already know, the arrow that shot her was not poisoned, only filthy, and the wound now seems to be healing cleanly and quickly. She is already able to walk with assistance. In fact, she is waiting outside the door right now. She insisted on seeing you this morning, but then requested that I should make sure you were not busy before she intruded on your privacy. Shall I bring her in?"

"By all means," Elrond urged.

Elrohir slipped back out of the room, leaving behind two very curious elves. In moments he returned with a dark-haired _elleth _leaning on his arm. She limped only slightly, and was trying her best to retain a dignified stance.

"Father, brother," Elrohir began, "May I introduce Nessúlë Ëarwen, daughter of Halliantassë and Melwakú of the Grey Havens. Nessúlë, meet my father, Elrond Peredhel, lord of Imladris, and my twin brother, Elladan."

Elrond and Elladan both swept graceful bows, while Nessúlë tried her best to dip into a curtsy.

"My lord Elrond," she poke softly, "I am deeply grateful for you're care of me, and for welcoming myself and my companions into your refuge. I am ever in your debt."

"It was my pleasure Lady Nessúlë. All are welcome here. Please take a seat; you make a valiant effort to hide it, but I can see that your wound still troubles you."

With a small smile and nod, Nessúlë sank gratefully into a chair next to Elrond's desk. After situating herself comfortably, she looked back up at Elrond and spoke.

"I suppose you must be wondering why I am here."

Elrond sat back in his chair, fingers pressed together in a steeple. He cocked one eyebrow and replied, "The thought had crossed my mind. Your two companions have been rather close-mouthed, and with your unstable condition I did not feel that I should press them for information."

"Well then, I will try to be more forth-coming. The two companions you spoke of are my brother, Lantél, and one of my father's servants, Alarkelú. They, along with myself, are the only remaining vestiges of my father's house in Middle-Earth. 

Over a year ago my parents decided to sail across the sea to Valinor, but I had reservations about leaving: Middle-Earth was still my home, and I had not yet felt the call of the west. For some time, however, I did not have the courage to voice my feelings or forsake all of my family. But when my brother and I discovered that we shared the same misgivings, we were able to support each other in the decision to stay behind. Alarkelú, who had always been a dear friend and mentor to my brother and I, insisted on staying as well, for he would not think of being parted with us. 

For several months we remained in the Grey Havens, but it was not the same. Finally we decided to seek out my mother's kin, and make a new life with them. With this objective in mind we have come from the west, and hope to eventually make it across the Hithaeglir{Misty Mountains} to LothLorien, where some of our kinsmen dwell.

That is our tale, and the only explanation we have for our sudden appearance on your doorstep." With that, Nessúlë brought her narrative to a close.

Elrond broke the following silence. "This is hardly a time to be travelling. The world grows dark, and fell things are abroad. The journey across the Hithaeglir will be perilous, and not one to be taken up lightly. And I do not say this simply because you are a female. My sons have informed me of your valiant and skilled efforts during the skirmish with the orcs, and I have no doubt that you are quite capable of your own defense within reason. But three warriors, however skilled, may not be able to stand against the perils you will face on your journey."

Nessúlë sat up straighter in her chair and replied, "Still, it shall be done. I am afraid that you will not be able to dissuade us."

Here Elladan broke in. "My lady, if we can not dissuade you, then perhaps you will at least allow us to waylay you for a short time. I think that I speak for my father when I tell you that you are most welcome to our hospitality, and that to stay here, at least until the heavy snows on the mountain have begun to recede, would set our hearts and minds more at ease."

Nessúlë sat for a moment considering this offer and then replied, "That is a happy compromise. If Lord Elrond does indeed agree with your sentiments we will stay – at least until the grip of winter has begun to ease."

Elrond smiled. "Nothing could please us more; Imladris welcomes you with open arms. And since you will be staying, I invite you to join us in our celebrations tonight as our honored guest. Your condition may prevent you from being able to join the dancing, but at least you will be able to join in the cheer."

"Thank you my lord, that is most kind of you."

With that, Nessúlë took her leave and slowly made her way from the room on the arm of Elrohir.

*~*~*~ Evening of the same day ~*~*~* 

"Oh my dear, it is simply lovely. You will look splendid tonight."

Írima was admiring Oloriel's new dress as the younger woman held it up against herself in front of the mirror. 

"I am so glad that Marilla was able to finish it in time," she continued.

Meanwhile, Oloriel was casting a very critical eye upon herself. She had felt rather ignorant when it came to ordering a formal dress and so she had let Írima take a large role in the process. The result was certainly beautiful, but also a little overwhelming.

"I do not think that I shall look like myself in this dress," she said reluctantly.

"Oh nonsense! You will look like a beautiful songbird of the Golden Wood, just as you should," Írima replied with the greatest conviction. "Now come, we must begin to get you ready."

"But Írima, it is three hours before the festivities begin!" 

The older lady rolled her eyes. "Yes. And in that time we shall have to get you in and out of a bath, dry and comb your hair, fix it, and put on the dress; after that, you will have to help me with my own hair and dress. Three hours will give us just enough time to accomplish all of this without having to scramble around in haste."

Oloriel sighed. "Oh very well, lead on."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan tugged slightly at his collar. The formal robes that he wore were slightly stiff, and the tunic underneath seemed a bit too constricting. Elrohir chuckled when he noticed his brother's uncomfortable pose.

"Don't worry, brother, they will loosen up quickly enough."

Elladan smiled wryly. "Aye, I know. You would think after a few millennia of formal feasts I would have become used to the routine." He tugged at his collar again.

His brother smiled back at him and winked. "But tonight you won't be following the same routine. As much as I enjoy watching you squirm in your garments, if you keep it up much longer you'll be late in getting to Lúnyellë's house."

Elladan started. "I had almost forgotten about that. You are right, I must hurry."

With that Elladan sped form his apartments to the sound of his brother's unrestrained laughter.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kallindo was not sure what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't this. 

He had arrived at Írima's flet, where he knew Oloriel would be getting ready, and stood waiting at the doorway while Nimfallë gathered up the women. As he waited, he turned to look out among the trees, and down upon the blazing lights below. When he heard Oloriel's voice behind him he turned, expecting to see the same maiden that he saw everyday, but instead he was confronted with a vision of loveliness that, in his eyes, rivaled that of the Lady Galadriel herself. For several moments he just stood there, gazing silently at her.

Oloriel was swathed in silky fabric of a gentle shade of green that was laced through with silver threads. The ample skirt was split down the front to show a creamy underskirt, which held golden threads, embroidered as trailing vines and leaves. The fitted bodice enhanced her figure admirably, and the sleeves, which were fitted to the elbow before flaring out, made her strong arms and hands look delicate and soft. At her throat hung her mother's necklace, and above it all shown her clear, bright eyes, framed in elaborately braided hair. Those eyes were now turned on him with an almost timid look. 

"Kallindo, please don't look at me that way. I do not look so different, do I?" she asked. 

Kallindo cleared his throat slightly and then replied, "You are still my Aiwë; it's just that I have never seen you plume your beautiful feathers before. Not like this, anyway… it's… you look stunning." 

Oloriel blushed slightly under Kallindo's intense gaze. Both of them stood there for a few moments, not knowing what to say or do next. If it had not been for Írima and Nimfallë's presence of mind, the two younger elves might still be standing there now. 

Írima came up behind Oloriel, tucking a few stray hairs into place, and saying something about how hungry she was, and shouldn't they be making their way to the feast, while Nimfallë, with his newborn child in one arm, used the other to prod Kallindo forward into action. The younger elf seemed to understand the implication. With gentlemanly grace he stepped to Oloriel's side and offered his arm to her. She took it silently and then the four of them made their way toward to music, and dancing, and lights.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"May I say that you dance as well as you sing?" Elladan asked as he brought Lúnyellë back to the table. They had just spent the last three dances in each other's arms, and were now ready to sit down and relax a little while.

"You may, my lord," Lúnyellë replied laughing.

"And will you also allow me to bring you a drink?"

"I wouldn't dream of stopping you."

After pulling out her chair for her, Elladan made his way over to one of the numerous refreshment tables. As he was filling up a piece of delicate stemware his brother approached on the same errand.

"And how are you enjoying the evening?" Elrohir asked enthusiastically.

"Very well, Lady Lúnyellë is, as always, a pleasant companion."

"Aye, I knew you would get along with her well, brother." 

Elladan cocked an eyebrow, "And what about you? It seems that you are also enjoying time spent with a certain maiden. I think I've seen you sitting with our fair and honored guest more than I've seen you dancing with anyone else. Usually you mingle all night, and every time I turn around you have a new maiden on your arm. What has happened to the brother I know?"

"I am simply being courteous. Nessúlë's leg is not yet strong enough to dance even slowly, and I would not want her to sit there all alone."

"I do not doubt the courteousness of your action, brother," Elladan replied with merriment in his eyes, "I just want to know whether your actions are motivated primarily by duty or by desire."

Elrohir looked slightly sheepish when he replied, "To tell you the truth, I haven't quite decided yet… but I think I'm leaning toward the latter."

Elladan grinned. "Ah, that's what I thought. Well, I wish you luck then." 

Elrohir smiled back and then both brothers left to find their respective ladies.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After its rather awkward beginning, Oloriel's evening began to take a turn for the better. Kallindo seemed to get over the shock of her dazzling appearance, returning to his normal easy ways, and the two of them finally were able to relax and enjoy each other's company. As he had claimed several days ago, Kallindo did turn out to be a fine dancer, and Oloriel didn't have any qualms about frequently visiting the dance floor. When she wasn't standing up with him, Oloriel relieved Írima and Nimfallë of their child, so that the married couple could enjoy some time together as well. Over all, the evening was turning out to be quite a success.

"I think I must sit down, Kallindo – I am simply running out of breath." Oloriel cried merrily. 

It was now very late into the night, and the merriment had spread out under the trees. Music could be heard wafting through the air, but there was no one place in which all the elves were congregated. She and Kallindo had recently broken off from a larger group of merry-makers and he had been leading her in a lively dance down a wide path, farther away from the lights.

"Very well then, we shall rest in that clearing up ahead." Kallindo took her hand and drew her out into the starlight. Oloriel tilted her head back to get a better view of the stars. They shone brilliantly out of the inky black sky, a sliver of moon accompanying them. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply the cool night air.

As she stood there, relaxing under the gentle rays of the moon, a new song was taken up somewhere nearby. It was ethereal and haunting, and though she was still very tired, she could not help swaying softly along with its rhythm. Her eyes were still closed as she began to move; after a few moments she felt Kallindo gently put his arm around her waist.

Until now Oloriel had been very successful in avoiding any of the slower dances. As much as she was enjoying her time with Kallindo, there was still a soft voice in the back of her mind telling her to be very careful. But she seemed to be under some sort of enchantment at the moment, and so when Kallindo began to move with her and the music, she did not stop him. 

Looking back on that time, Oloriel could never remember how long they remained like this. Minutes, hours? She really couldn't say. But when Kallindo's arm tightened around her waist, pressing her more firmly against himself, the moment was broken. Her eyes flew open as her mind came back to life; abruptly she stopped in her tracks. She tried to step away, but Kallindo would not loosen his hold on her.

"Aiwë." He murmured softly and with deep longing.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, and then watched as he slowly leaned his head toward hers. She wanted to back away, she wanted to turn her face from him, but she couldn't. It was as if time was frozen, and her with it. Only when Kallindo's lips had actually met her own did she regain the use of her limbs. Before he had the chance to deepen the kiss she shoved against his chest with all her might. He stumbled backward, and then raised eyes to hers that were full of pain and confusion. Oloriel wanted to cry when she saw those eyes.

"_Amin hiraetha_, Kallindo… _amin ikotanë sai-hiraetha _{I'm sorry, Kallindo… I am so very sorry}." She blurted out. In the next moment she ran from him; ran from the lights; ran from everything. "Oh Elladan," she whispered, "Where are you when I need you?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan joined his applause with the rest of the audience. They had just been favored with a very complex harp-piece by one of Imladris' most notable musicians. Elladan sighed as a thought swept through his head from nowhere: 'I wonder if Oloriel plays an instrument.' Such thoughts had been spinning through his head for most of the night. 

Despite the pleasant company he was keeping, he could not seem to drag his mind away from the green-eyed _elleth_. After being on speaking terms with her for around three weeks he was beginning to truly get to know her. And the more he came to know her, the more he wanted to know. 'What would she say? I wish she could hear this? Has she ever done that before?' No matter where he turned, there seemed to be a reason to think of her. He rubbed a hand across his face; perhaps he had had too much wine. 

"My lord, are you feeling well?" Lúnyellë had been off speaking with some of her friends and had just now returned to her seat.

"Yes, thank you. I am perhaps a little tired."

"Well that is not surprising," she replied smiling, "It is at least two hours past midnight, and we have both danced probably more than is good for us."

Elladan smiled. He was thankful for Lúnyellë's practical manner at this moment. She did not try to wake him up, nor did she try to urge him to bed, she simply took things as they were. He was about to reply to her when a sensation that was becoming all too familiar came over him. It was not so overwhelming this time, but he could sense what was coming. A slight blurring of his vision, a rushing sound in his ears, and then in the calm that ensued, a voice. _//Elladan, where are you when I need you?// _This time the voice was also accompanied with a feeling of anxiety. Something was wrong.

He turned to Lúnyellë; her focus had been on the musicians and so she hadn't notice anything amiss.

"My lady," he caught her attention, "I think that perhaps the night has worn on me more than I believed. I _am_ very tired. Would you mind terribly if I retired for the night? I could have my brother escort you home whenever you wish to leave."

"Certainly, my lord. I will not keep you here." She replied graciously. "I hope that you find the rest you need." 

"Thank you."

With that, Elladan made haste to his chambers. When he arrived he dropped onto the bed fully clothed and pressed his mind toward sleep.

The dreamscape blossomed into a well-known glade in Imladris. It was nighttime there; the stars twinkled merrily above him.

Anxious to find Oloriel quickly, he called out her name, hoping that she was there and that she could hear him. He called out to her several times, but nothing happened; sighing heavily he turned back to a stone bench, which he had seen nestled beneath a tree. There, sitting at its base was Oloriel; she had just fallen asleep.

"Here I am," she whispered.

He walked over to her and knelt down. "What happened?" he inquired gently.

That seemed to open the floodgate. "Oh Elladan, I have hurt him so much! And I… I didn't mean to, but it happened… we were dancing in a glade like this one and then he just… he kissed me… I never wanted him to, but he did… but I couldn't… I just couldn't… I pushed him away, and… oh, Elladan, his eyes… I have brought so much confusion to him… Ai! All I've done is hurt him." 

As her torrent of words came to an end, Oloriel did not resist when Elladan gathered her up into his arms. He rocked her slowly and whispered back, "I am sorry. It is my fault."

She looked up at him, confused. "What? How could it be your fault?"

Elladan chuckled. "Aren't you the one who is always telling me it's my fault. I distinctly remember you saying that if the new year was begun on a sour note you would know who to blame." Elladan grew serious as he continued. "And you were right. Was it not my counsel that got you into this mess?"

Oloriel lifted her hand to cradle his face. "Yes, but you are still around to get me out of it, so I shall forgive you. You only wanted to see me happy – I cannot fault you for that."

Elladan smiled. "Well then, how _can_ I get you out of this mess? How can we make this night a happy one?"

Oloriel smirked and replied sarcastically, "By forgetting it?"

"No, no… that will never do. Come now, I have an idea." Elladan gently shifted her out of his arms and stood. Then, leaning down to offer his hand, he asked, "Shall we dance?" 

Oloriel knit her brows in confusion. "What will that accomplish?" 

"Well, you said that you danced with Kallindo in a glade. Here we are in a glade, and if you will dance with me we can make a better memory – that way you won't have to forget tonight." 

She smiled up at him, then took his hand. "Very well."

Elladan led her to the middle of the clearing and then inquired, "What were you dancing to?"

"A soft, melancholy tune."

"Ah yes, I can hear it now." Elladan cleared his throat. "I am no songbird, but here we go." 

Trying very hard to look serious, he began to hum a meandering tune that they could dance to. Oloriel could not help but laugh at him. Elladan looked down at her in mock out-rage. "What? You don't like my humming? I don't hum well enough for you? Would _you_ like to do the humming?"

Still laughing, Oloriel replied, "You hum… very prettily, my lord – by all means continue."

Elladan smiled. "Do you call that fellow of yours 'my lord'?"

"No. His name is Kallindo."

"Well than you mustn't call me 'my lord', for we're trying to recreate the scene with authenticity."

Oloriel laughed merrily again. "Very well, Elladan, I'll try to do better."

"Shall we begin then?"

Oloriel nodded her head in agreement. Elladan counted off and then started to hum again. The two began to gently move to the 'music', softly making their way across the grass. Elladan would twirl her under his arm occasionally, but every time he did so he could not wait to reclaim her back against himself. He knew that he was treading on very dangerous ground.

Softly he broke up the humming. "What happened next?"

Oloriel sighed. "It was when he drew me in closer that I first realized what I was doing. It startled me."

"It was like this?" Elladan asked, as he drew her in tightly against himself, continuing to lead her in the dance.

"Yes."

"And does this startle you?"

Oloriel seemed to hesitate ever so slightly, but then she lowered her cheek to rest against his shoulder and replied, "No, not with you."

Elladan's breath caught slightly when she laid her head against him. She was close enough that he could smell the sent of lilacs in her hair, and it was nothing short of intoxicating. Some time past before he spoke again.

"And then what happened?"

Oloriel groaned softly into his tunic. "Well… that is when he kissed me."

Elladan brought the dance to a close. He leaned down to speak softly in her ear. "And do you need a new memory of that as well?"

Oloriel couldn't prevent the slight shiver that ran down her spine when his breath hit the sensitive tip of her ear. Timidly, she raised her head to look up at him but did not speak. He searched her eyes for an answer and his heart ached when all he found there was trust.

Taking this as his answer, he lifted his hand to cradle the nap of her neck, and ever so slowly lowered his face toward hers, giving her plenty of time to back away; he did not want to scare her. As he hovered only centimeters away from her mouth, he paused, sure that this dream was going to fade. Finally, after a breathless and excruciating moment, he closed the remaining gap between them and met her lips with his own. 

Her body stiffened slightly and for a brief moment he thought that he would lose her, but quickly her lips softened under the gentle pressure of his own. Her body followed suit, relaxing into the warm support of his arms. His heart sang as she began to respond to the plying of his own mouth, and for several moments, as the kiss deepened, he gave himself over to drowning in the feel and the taste and the smell of her; all a little distorted from reality*, but still very alluring.

Slowly, almost shyly, she brought her arms up around his neck, drawing him in closer. For a few moments they both reveled in this feeling of closeness, bodies pressed tightly together. But soon – too soon for both of them – Elladan came back to his senses. It felt just a little _too_ good, and he didn't want to rush things, especially with a woman who was emotionally fragile at the moment. He didn't want to hurt her. With this thought in mind he gently began to pull away from her embrace. She moaned slightly as he began to draw his lips from hers, and he smiled softly against her, but still he broke the contact.

"Is that a better memory," he whispered breathlessly.

Oloriel nodded slowly and smiled. "_Diola lle_ {thank you}" she whispered. Then, with a longing look in her eyes, she stepped away from him and drew herself from sleep

***

1. A refresher: For those who didn't catch this before, Merendë Enyalië translates as "Festival to Remember", and it is celebrated at the turn of the year. I really wanted to say 'Festival of Remembrance', but I didn't know how to manipulate the verb properly. The idea here is that it's a time to remember the event of the past year, and look forward to the future.

2.** This may be important**: It struck me that contact in a dream would probably be different from contact in the real world. This may eventually play a role in the plot. For instance, will their first kiss in real life be a totally new experience? Will they look slightly different in real life than they do in the dreamscape? Hmm… no one really knows. ; )

New names to remember:

Nessúlë Ëarwen (NESS-oo-lay / ey-R-wen): "young spirit" "sea maiden"

Lantél: "falling star"

Alarkelú (ah-LAR-kel-oo): "swift stream"

New names you can forget:

Halliantassë (hahl-ee-ahn-TASS-ey): "tall vine"

Melwakú (MEL-wah-koo): "lovely crescent moon"

Marilla (mah-RILL-ah}: "pearl"

(From chapter 11: the guy that Elladan and Elrohir took with them to go find the three elves was really Pantaquárre, not Pantamá, but they both mean "open hand". And Anarseldo means 'sun child') 

**Remember to roll those r's! ^_~

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To all readers and reviewers: I recently stumbled upon a story that only had 9 reviews for its 8 chapters. Normally I would have skipped such a story because I figure that no one has liked it well enough to review it, but this time I thought I'd give it a chance. It turns out that the story is pretty good, and I can't figure out why no one reviewed it. Anyhoo, after almost doubling her review total, I thought I tell everyone else out there to go R&R the story because it would just make her day (gosh, I assume it's a her!). The story is "Recovering What Was Lost," by calenore. 

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Orangeblossom Took: I hope I'm getting the romance right. I've never tried to do anything like it, and so it's been kind of odd trying to get two characters to fall in love with each other and look/sound good doing it. Thanks! = )

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Icy878: Hmm… you thought she was flustered about the kiss on the cheek? She's definitely had a lot more to deal with in this chapter. ^_~ I hope the festival lived up to your expectations.

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Bratprincess: Well, now you know about the mysterious elves. Don't worry, I won't let Elladan fall in love with Nessúlë… but Elrohir? Hmm… *gears in her brain turning* … we'll see. = ) P.S. You've been a pretty faithful reviewer so I'll give you a cookie too. Of course, they weren't just pulled out of the oven like last time, but next time I make a batch I'll be sure to send one your way!

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Concetta: Here - have some milk to wash down that cookie. Good thing you could type with your mouth full! Yep, Elladan is definitely becoming more and more attracted to Oloriel… and now it seems to be a mutual feeling. Let's see where it goes from here…

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Banba McCuill: (I hope it doesn't take too long for you to catch up to this chapter and read my response!) As you can see, your suggestion about the asterisk has been taken up. I would love to be able to use those tiny numbers that hang right above the letters, but they won't show up properly on another site that I post this story on. With regard to the dialogue, I can well believe that it wasn't as smooth as it could be, but it was only my second attempt at writing any kind of dialogue, and I think I've warmed up to it. Do you think it's improved? I'm very glad that you're enjoying the plot. And as far as descriptions go, if you can't write very good sword-fighting scenes (which I can't) you might as well make up for it in great scenery! ^_~ 

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Elisabeth: I know what you mean… Elladan is very… nice. ^_~ I hope all your questions were answered in this chapter.

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TigerLily713: Oh dear… I don't think I could put poor Elladan through that (the 'sympathy pains')… I'm not quite that cruel! I got the idea of the dream sequence in chapter 11 from a reviewer on another site I post on. I thought it would be a good hook. I take unusual glee in the fact that I almost had your mind fooled. 

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Calenore: Of course I remember you! = ) Glad you like the idea behind the story, and the relationship between the twins. I'm really having fun writing about how those two interact 

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Lirima T.: Yes, such a great review is at least as good as a twenty-dollar bill! I just love it when people think my idea is original. Also, I'm that you enjoy all the info I dish out. Sometimes I wonder if I'm babbling too much and no one really cares. Yep, Kallindo does confuse things. In fact, he's confused me a couple times – he's very sly about trying to pull me off the original plot line. I purposely wanted him to be tempting as a romantic interest because I think it's silly when characters get written too black and white. Just because he's not the main character doesn't me he has to be a jerk, a bore, or an airhead. Elladan is not the only fish in the see, it's just that Kallindo doesn't seem to be the right fish for Oloriel. = ) And yes, you get a cookie now… an M & M cookie! Mmmmm….

Now repeat after me "I will be a good reader and review… I will be a good LotR fan and review… I will be a good citizen of Middle-Earth and review…" Got that? Good…

~Ilúvien~ 


	13. Matters of the Confused Heart

Disclaimer: See previous chapters (sorry guys, I just can't get creative about my disclaimer today!)

Things you need to know about this story...  
1.) Elven dreams are very realistic  
2.) Elves shouldn't normally meet *real* people along the Olórë Mallë (Path of Dreams)... but something happens in this story that is not normal  
  
Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

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By Request: An asterisk '*' will now signal a footnote. = )  
  
**A/N**: I really had to wring this chapter out of me. I think that this one went through more revisions than any of the others did. There were a lot of different directions that I could have gone in, but I hope that I have given you the best product of my own imagination. Some of you may be in an uproar after you read it, but my only response is: "Learn to love the angst" ^_~   
  
  
________________________  
  
Chapter 13.) Matters of the Heart  
  
***  
_"…They sink downward to darkness, on extended wings."_  
- Wallace Stevens   
***  
  
Recap: I'Merendë Enyalië – Kallindo tried to kiss Oloriel. She pushed him away. Elladan and Oloriel meet in the dreamscape. Oloriel is distressed about the evening's events. Elladan tries to cheer her up. He kisses her. Oloriel does not push him away. The dream ends at around three o'clock in the morning.  
  
  
Few elves took notice of her as she paced back and forth across her balcony. No doubt they were all intent on their own early-morning business, and so did not have the time or the inclination to stop and observe her. That is, all except for one elf.  
  
Kallindo sat a short way off behind a few bushes at the base of a mallorn tree. If anyone had been looking they could have easily found him, but, in her current state, Oloriel was oblivious to his presence.   
  
After their encounter last night, Kallindo had unconsciously found his way back to her flet. Tired and emotionally worn he had sat down and fallen asleep at the foot of a tree nearby. A short while later, when the world was still in the clutches of night, he had awoken to the soft padding of her bare feet across the wooden planks above him. Ever since then she had been sitting, standing, or pacing in an agitated manner. And Kallindo had been watching.  
  
~~~  
  
Oloriel's heart and mind were full of confusion as she awoke from her dream. There were so many questions that needed answering; so many emotions that needed to be dealt with.   
  
Where Kallindo was concerned she felt saddened, annoyed, heartbroken. His kiss last night had confirmed her in her decision. She did not love him in that way – she could not be to him what he wanted her to be.   
  
Where Elladan was concerned she felt so many things. A thrill of happiness mixed with a nauseous anxiety. Being in his arms had felt so right, and yet, Elladan was a prince in all but title – he was far above her in station. And to make things more complicated she was not even sure what the kiss had meant. Had he felt pity for her, responsibility, lust? Was it even possible that he could actually be falling in love with her? He had pulled away from the kiss when it deepened – she did not know what that meant. She did not know what she wanted it to mean. Add to all this the fact that the lingering memory of his lips pressed against hers disrupted all rational thought and you will have a pretty good idea of why pacing was Oloriel's best option at the moment. She had to clear her head; use up some of this restless energy.   
  
As the initial thrill of the kiss wore off, Oloriel's thoughts took a more decisive turn. 'He cannot possibly be falling in love with me, he… I am sure he has met scores of ladies, more worthy than I am… And yet, I am sure that he is too honorable to be so flippant about his affections. It must be just as he said it was – a better memory of that night. He was trying to cheer me up… perhaps he just went a little too far... But whatever it was, it cannot be… it cannot be that he loves me... And even if he did, he is a prince, and I am… I am nothing compared to… Oh why did you let him do it! You should have known that nothing good would come of it. Why must you act so childishly?' She slammed her fists down onto the balcony railing…   
  
It was now just a few minutes before dawn. Kallindo was still patiently taking in her movements, with no inkling of what thoughts were swirling around behind her green eyes. But as she turned away from the railing she gave him a fragmented clue. With hands buried deep in her hair, she muttered loudly enough for him to hear, "What have I done?"  
  
Kallindo stiffened when he heard these words. What was it she regretted? Could she be speaking of their encounter last night? Did she rue her actions? Should he dare to hope? His heart pounded loudly in his ears. Did he still have a chance?  
  
As he was considering these questions, the sun finally made its appearance through the trees. With reluctance he stole out from his hiding place and departed. Patrol duty would keep him busy for the rest of the day.  
  
'All the better,' he though wryly, 'Plenty of time to think.'  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
When Oloriel had left the dreamscape, Elladan remained. He wandered through maze-like gardens, which closely mirrored those he knew in Imladris, and tried to lose himself in them. But no matter where he turned, his steps always seemed to lead him back to the glade where he had found her and danced with her and kissed her. It was all terribly distracting – he couldn't think straight.   
  
He woke up early and spent the morning trying to preoccupy his mind with mundane duties and tasks. It wasn't working; his thoughts constantly turned back towards her. The way she looked, smelled, tasted. He shook his head violently as he walked down an empty hallway, trying to clear the cobwebs from his head. What did this girl do to him? The world seemed different this morning – he seemed different. He didn't know what he should do or feel or think. All he knew was that he wanted her near him.  
  
Now, concerning matters of the heart, elves are both cautious and bold, both sensible and emotional. Many elves over the millennia have experienced love at first sight, and so falling in love in a matter of weeks would not be very surprising. On the other hand, however, when it came to physical displays of affection, elves were much more conservative – they did not rush into things. An honorable elf would not sleep with a maiden unless she was his wife, and even a kiss was generally not given lightly. So why had he kissed her then? Did he love her?  
  
Elladan let his head fall into his hands. What did he know about matters of the heart? – Almost nothing. He sighed, then raised his head in resolution. He would simply have to seek counsel from someone who did – he had waited long enough.  
  
~~~  
  
Elrond had been learning the art of fatherhood for the past three millennia, and he knew that there were times when a child should be pressed for information and times when a parent should simply sit back and wait patiently for them to open up. Elrond knew that this time was a time for patience, but after almost an hour he was beginning to wonder just how much patience would be required of him that morning.  
  
Elladan had entered his study on the pretense of reading by the fire while his father worked. From the beginning Elrond knew that this was not why he had come. The fact that Elladan was staring blankly into the fire with a closed book in his hands confirmed the older elf's suspicions. Finally he decided to open up the conversation. Laying his quill pen down he gently stated, "You have yet to open your book."  
  
Elladan looked up and over to his father, a pensive look on his face. "Ada, I have something I must speak with you about. I need your advice"  
  
Elrond was not at all surprised at the change in subject; he settled back into his chair to listen. Taking that as his cue, Elladan began his tale, telling his father about all of the relevant events that had led up to his current predicament. When done, he favored Elrond with a questioning look. After several moments of silence the elf lord spoke.  
  
"You did not come here simply to tell me a story; although it certainly was a fascinating one. Something is bothering you, but you have yet to tell me what it is."  
  
Elladan looked confused; to him it was obvious. "Well… I kissed her."  
  
"Yes, this I know," Elrond replied complacently, "But I am still unclear where the problem lies. As a father I certainly would have _liked_ knowing who the maiden was who had captured my son's heart, but you are an adult, and nothing can be done about it now. As long as she is of upright character I cannot fault you in your choice."   
  
"But that is the problem. You assume that she _has_ captured my heart – that I have made a choice – but I am not nearly so sure. A few days ago I had not thought of love… do I love her? Could I ever even deserve her? She is… But I…" Elladan thumped his fist against the armrest of his chair in frustration. "She came to me for help. She was vulnerable and hurting and I… well I couldn't keep my hands off of her! What kind of fool am I? She deserves something better – someone better."  
  
Elrond tried to suppress his knowing smile as well as he could, but the corners of his mouth still twitched suspiciously. Elladan might not be aware of where his heart lay, but Elrond was fairly certain that the decision had already been made, with or without his son's consent.  
  
"Come now, _ion nin_ {my son}, I know that you have an honorable heart. The fact that you feel ashamed of your own conduct attests to it. Perhaps it would have been better to keep your distance – and until you decide where your heart lies, this is what I would advise you to do – but do not despise yourself for one false step; we all make them. As to the question of whether or not you love her… that I simply cannot answer for you."  
  
Elladan sat back in his chair and let out a small sigh. Elrond, feeling that he had said everything that could be said, stood up and left the room to his son.  
  
Elladan's mind was still simmering. His thoughts rested on a conversation that he had once had with Oloriel. It was when she first spoke to him about Kallindo. She had said that she didn't want anyone to love her. 'Where does that leave me?' he wondered, 'Even if I did love her, how could I tell her? She is just beginning to come out of her shell, and I, being the thickheaded elf that I am, may have scared her right back in.' It didn't matter that she had allowed the kiss – she had been tired and emotionally strung. 'I should have been more careful.' He shoved himself out of the chair and stalked over to the window. Leaning his arm against the frame he muttered with conviction, "She is only a friend – I won't fall in love with her."  
  
It didn't sound very convincing, but he hoped that, if he said it long enough, perhaps he would start to believe it.  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Oloriel? Oloriel, dear, come back to me." Írima strolled over to where Oloriel was sitting with the baby, Almárië. She had been calling to the younger elf, but had gotten no response. Oloriel's eyes seemed to be fixed on nothing at all, and a slight smile curled the corners of her mouth. Írima chuckled softly and gently touched the girl's shoulder. Oloriel started slightly.  
  
"You've been gone for some time," commented Írima.  
  
Oloriel flushed slightly and looked down at the child in her arms. "I'm sorry, my mind was wandering. Did you need something?"  
  
"No, nothing in particular." Írima eyed her slyly. "But now that you mention it, I would like to know what elf is responsible for putting such a dreamy expression on your face. It does my heart good to see you looking so peaceful."  
  
The color in Oloriel's cheeks deepened. "I… You are mistaken. There is… there is no one."  
  
"You can't lie to me that easily, _mellonamin_ {my friend}. I know that look. But I'm fairly certain that Kallindo could not have softened your heart so quickly, and I can't think of anyone else… do I know him?"  
  
Oloriel mumbled something under her breath.  
  
"What was that, dear?" Írima inquired with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.  
  
Oloriel pursed her lips and replied, "I said that you do not know him and you never will know because nothing will ever come of it."  
  
"So you admit it!" Írima crowed, "There _is_ someone."  
  
"There is no one," Oloriel replied shortly, "It all amounts to nothing – I am sure that he does not think of me in that way."  
  
Írima smiled. "But would you like it if he did?"  
  
"No… yes… I mean, well… maybe… oh, I don't know!" Oloriel tried to hide her flushed face by burying it in Almárië's downy curls.  
  
Írima laughed gently then bent down to pick up her child. "It's alright to not know."  
  
Oloriel soon left to return to the House of Healing. She had been sorting and cataloging various dried herbs before she had gone to visit Írima, but had been forced to abandon the effort midway. Thoughts of a certain elven lord had made the task of organizing the medicine pantry almost impossible. She kept mislabeling bottles, and putting the wrong combinations of herbs together for the poultices. However, taking a break from her work had not seemed to help clear her mind. No matter how adorable the antics of Írima's child were they could not draw Oloriel's mind away from a certain dark-eyed Rivendell elf.  
  
'You are losing control of yourself!' Oloriel chided inwardly. 'This simply will not do. What is wrong with me?'   
  
_You're falling in love._ A voice whispered the truth from somewhere deep inside her, but she did not want to hear it.   
  
'No, that cannot be. I am sure that he does not love me in that way.' She argued back at herself.  
  
_What does that have to do with it?_   
  
'Everything! If he does not love me, which I am sure he does not, then there's no point in thinking about it.'  
  
_How do you know he does not love you? You're just trying to convince yourself of that because you are afraid._  
  
Oloriel stopped dead in her tracks.  
  
_You're afraid… You won't love anyone because you're too afraid._  
  
A solitary tear rolled down Oloriel's cheek. Against her will this brought to mind all of the times that she had cried on Elladan's shoulder; and how he had held her, so gently; how he always tried to protect her and help her. She smiled softly as she thought of the way that he smiled, and laughed, and spoke. Without knowing it she had grown fond of everything about him.  
  
She lifted her hand to wipe away the tear. 'I _am_ afraid, but if he… If he truly loved me, then maybe… just maybe,' she began to think… But her thoughts were cut off by a startling sensation. She was experiencing what Elladan had experienced several times already, and which she had gone through once – a rushing noise, a slight ache in her chest, and in the ensuing calm a voice… _his_ voice. _// She is only a friend – I won't fall in love with her//_   
  
Oloriel braced herself against a nearby tree and cried out softly as the import of the words struck her heart. He didn't want her. For several moments she allowed herself to indulge in feelings of regret... but not for long. She soon brought her emotional defenses back into play. Shrugging off the uncomfortable feelings, she squared her shoulders against the world. Regaining her sense of balance, she let go of the tree and muttered defiantly, 'Tis no matter. He has only ever been my friend, and I wouldn't have it any other way; my mind was just playing tricks on me. I have done quite well so far without a lover, and I certainly don't need one now. I was simply over-tired last night. Yes, that's it. How silly of me.'  
  
It may not have been the truth, but it _was_ a safe lie. With it she quickly and efficiently repaired the fortress surrounding her heart, reinforcing every wall. Her world was back to normal.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*   
  
Elladan set the book down with an aggravated sigh. It was past midnight. He had spent the entire day preoccupied with thoughts of Oloriel, and now they continued to plague him as he tried to read by candlelight in the library.  
  
That evening he had still been so unsure about his feelings toward Oloriel that he had decided not to go to sleep at all. He could not be sure how he would react to meeting her in the dreamscape again. In fact, there was still only one thing that he could be sure of – he wanted to be near her. And yet, this too was a reason for him to stay away – he didn't want to scare her off.  
  
Elladan paused in his train of thought as this idea entered his head. 'Well, at least I know what I don't want to do – I don't want to scare her off – that's a start. But what _do_ I want to do? That's the question I need to answer.' As he thought on it, answers began pouring into his mind: talk with her… tell her everything… hold her… protect her… kiss her… make her laugh… touch her hair… listen to her sing…share everything with her… comfort her… fight for her…   
  
And above them all… never _ever_ be without her.   
  
A grin started to spread across Elladan's face. 'If that's not love, what is?'  
  
Elladan stood up quickly from his chair and started energetically pacing around the room.  
"I love her!" he declared joyfully to the bookshelves. "I love her." He paused in his tracks. What to do now. He muttered to the empty room, "I have to tell her, show her, make her understand somehow. I… I need to see her." With this thought he left the library and made for his room. It would be some time before he could sufficiently calm his racing mind and press it toward sleep.  
  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*   
  
Oloriel had been sitting in a gloomy twilit landscape since sleep had come. The murky dreamscape fit her mood perfectly. There was no danger of being terrorized in her dreams, her heart was still too open to allow for that, but there could be no brilliance either: no unbounded joy. The walls she had built up might keep intruders out, but they had also boxed her into an uneasy state of limbo. Her heart was caught in a state of mid-thaw. She could accept the love of a friend, the love of a teacher, the love of a child, but she was not willing to step beyond that. It was safer this way.  
  
But would safety always be enough? Before a friend had been all that she wanted, but now, having tasted briefly of a deeper possibility, it would not satisfy for long. However, she was not yet willing to admit this to herself; and so she waited in a half-lit world.  
  
~~~  
  
Elladan entered the dream world joyfully, just a few hours before dawn, but his exuberance was soon dampened by what he found there. The landscape was bleak and uninviting. Oloriel sat in a clearing of dried grass with her knees pulled up to her chest; arms crossed over them, and head bent down. Elladan had been brimming over with things to say to her, but when he saw her, he put his passion aside and decided to approach from a more neutral position  
  
"Oloriel," he spoke gently as he knelt down beside her, "what is this place? It is not very inviting."   
  
She shrugged slightly. "It is no place that I know of. Just a figment of my imagination; something my mind conjured up."  
  
Elladan's brow knit slightly. "It does not seem like a very healthy place for anyone's mind to dwell in; there is not enough light."  
  
"I'm sorry that it does not suite you, but it will have to do – it's all I can come up with right now."  
  
"Oloriel, is something wrong. Is it… did last night –"  
  
"Don't worry about last night, there was no harm done. I appreciate your concern and your efforts last night in trying to cheer me up. But, if you don't mind, I really would like to be alone right now."  
  
Elladan's heart plummeted to his feet. He had not quite known what mood he would find Oloriel in, but this had certainly not been what he expected. And what was this about harm being done - he wanted to talk about love! If in fact no harm had been done, then why was she so complacent? Had last night meant nothing to her?  
  
Very cautiously he began to speak again. "Oloriel... something is wrong. Why are you so... different tonight? What can I do to make things as they were?"  
  
Oloriel smiled sardonically. If she had held out any secret hope that the voice she had heard that afternoon was false, it was now crushed. The words were true; He did seem to want things simply 'as they were', before any of this had happened. "I believe that things _are_ as they always were." she replied, "We are just friends; sometimes we talk and sometimes we give each other privacy – what is different?"  
  
Elladan tried not to flinch at the emotionless quality of her voice and the finality of her words. Not knowing what else he could do, he stood up slowly and replied, "Then, trying to be the best friend that I can, I will respect your wishes. Perhaps we can talk tomorrow?"   
  
Oloriel nodded slightly. With that, Elladan turned to face the bleak landscape; the dreariness now fit his own mood as well.  
  
***  
  
Names to Know:  
  
Oloriel: "dream daughter"  
Kallindo: "noble heart"  
Írima: "lovely, desirable"  
Almárië: "be blessed"

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First of all: Fresh snickerdoodles for everyone who reviewed!!!

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Orangeblossom Took: I got a 'sigh'? Was it really that dreamy?… cool *pats herself on back*

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icy878: Wow, you sure where enthusiastic. ^_~ I hope I haven't bummed you out with this chapter. Just think of what a great moment it will be when Oloriel finally figures out that she's in love with him!

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Elisabeth Celebros: Yeah for home schoolers! If you ever get around to writing some fan fic I'll be sure to drop by and check it out. = ) Concerning Kallindo: let's just say that I do have some plans for him – he's not gonna get tossed over board. …btw, I love Jane Austen, and I understood what you meant by it!

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Bratprincess: Hmm… this is an idea: maybe I can drop _you_ into ME and then you can give Kallindo that hug ^_~ I'm not totally sure how I'm going to figure in the 'difference in appearance', but I thought it would be best to cover my bases and put that clarification in. Hope you enjoy your "fresh" snickerdoodle

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Calenore: Don't worry about kallidno… he'll get someone _eventually _^_~

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Crimson Starlight: Welcome! So glad to hear that this story finally caught your eye… and that you decided to stay. = )

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Jess: Here's your update!

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TigerLily713: Wow, it was "perfect"? That's pretty high praise! I take a peculiar delight in the fact that I 'disturbed your reality'. ^_~

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Concetta: Yep, they kissed, but I think it's gonna be a while before Oloriel lets him have another one!

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Lirima Tindomiel: Glad you like the supporting cast. So, did you predict this turn of events? I hope not. = ) As to Nessule's trip to LothLorien… well, I'm not quite ready to divulge information about that. ^_~

Enjoy your snickerdoodle!

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Lasse-Lanta: I'm glad that you like the way I've dealt with Galadriel – I like her myself. = ) Hmmm… I avoided gushy romance? You wrote that before ch.12, so I wonder what you thought of it. What'd you think about the current turn of events?

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Diadora: You like the twins, eh? I'm definitely in the same boat = ) They deserve more attention if I do say so myself. I'm usually a good updater, but I was gone for two weeks… it wasn't my fault!

  
Now repeat after me "I will be a good reader and review… I will be a good LotR fan and review… I will be a good citizen of Middle-earth and review…" Got that? Good…

~Iluvien~


	14. Putting Up a Fight

Disclaimer: see previous chapter

Things you need to know about this story...

1.) Elven dreams are very realistic

2.) Elves shouldn't normally meet *real* people along the Olórë Mallë (Path of Dreams)... but something happens in this story that is not normal

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

****

A/N: I have heard that Elves never get sick, but I'm going to bend that rule a little bit. I certainly don't think that an elf could die from sickness, but that doesn't mean that they *always* feel 100%, or that they can't be weakened temporarily by some malady. How could you live for millennia and never get a cold or a headache of an upset stomach?

____________________

Chapter 14.) Putting up a Fight

***

__

Do not go gentle into that good night… 

Rage, rage, against the dying of the light…   


- Dylan Thomas 

***

Oloriel grimaced as the bitter liquid slid down her throat. Having developed a headache soon after waking, she hoped that the herbal drought would help to ease the pounding behind her eyes. 

It had not been particularly good morning. 

Aside from the headache, she had gotten a splinter stuck in her foot, broken a small bottle of perfume, spilled juice on her dress, and been plagued by the knowledge that this afternoon she would see Kallindo for the first time since i'Merendë Enyalië*. And, to top it all off, she was also harassed by a feeling of guilt at how she had treated Elladan the night before. She may have convinced herself that she did not love him, but she still could not stand the thought of hurting him. And she certainly had hurt him; no matter how much he tried to hide it, her coolness last night had stung. 

'I couldn't help it,' she grumbled inwardly, 'I just needed to be alone.'

It was true. For reasons that she would not admit to herself, being with Elladan would have been very risky. Despite her determined mindset, her heart was still walking a very thin emotional line, and she had not wanted to risk an encounter that could push her in what she believed to be the wrong direction. On the one side was the possibility that she loved Elladan; this possibility her mind had already rejected. On the other side was the certainty of a quiet friendship: one that her heart was trying to return to. Going back is not always easy.

But life isn't generally easy; Oloriel knew that first hand. She had already closed the door on her deeper feelings, whether her heart was ready for it or not, and she now refused to accept that they ever existed. And yet, even she could not erase every trace of their existence. Elladan still held a place, albeit a small place, in her heart.

'I shall try to make up for my cold behavior when I see him again. There can be no harm in my being friendly; after all, we _are_ friends. I will just be myself tonight – things will be as they were.'

While she was thinking the pain in her head had already started to abate. She still felt a little off, but it was much better than before. She stepped out onto a walkway, which led from the healing room where she had mixed the medicine, into watery sunshine. She breathed deeply the crisp winter air (it's coldness, the only sign that winter was there) and smiled. She looked up into a pale sky; the position of the sun slowly ate away at the smile on her face. It was almost time for lunch, and after that she would be meeting with Kallindo.

She sighed. 'Now, what _shall _I do with him? How should I act? How will he act?' Her brow wrinkled in confusion. 'Why must this year start out to be so complicated?'

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan slowly meandered down the shrubbery-lined path that led toward the archery field, his bow in hand, and his quiver slung carelessly across his back. His feet trudged up the gravel as he walked in a dejected manner: head down, eyes following the ground, and shoulders slightly bent. He was the perfect picture of confused, besotted manhood. Nothing could take the spirit out of a full-grown Elven warrior like the burden of unrequited affection. If it were not for his tall stature, strong build, and strikingly handsome features, he would have looked much like a lost puppy. At the moment, he certainly felt like one. 

Oloriel didn't love him. That was the hardest blow. But, to make it worse, she didn't even seem to care much for his presence. He thought that they had gotten past the "leave me alone, I'm thinking" stage. As of late, Oloriel had always spoken to him of her thoughts; told him of her cares; asked for his advice; accepted his comfort; trusted him. But now… now she just wanted to be rid of him. Why?

'I know that I'm not well-versed in the art of wooing fair maidens, but I had not thought that even I could make such a royal mess,' he thought dejectedly.

Of course, in all fairness, Elladan was not as inept as he believed himself to be. If Oloriel had not heard his hasty, and unfortunately worded statement the day before, things might have turned out very differently. But they didn't; she _had_ heard, and now things were just as they were.

~~~

"Elladan! Watch out!" Arwen called to her brother as an arrow whisked by him, no more than two inches from his nose. 

Elladan had made it to the archery fields, but then had absentmindedly continued walking. Unfortunately, his feet had taken him underneath the trees, which stood about fifty feet behind the row of targets that Arwen and Lady Nessúlë were shooting at.

He stepped back quickly as the arrow flew by him. Taking in a shaky breath, he turned to see the offending object projecting defiantly from an ancient oak tree. Regaining his presence of mind, Elladan shook off his dull spirits and walked over to where his sister and Nessúlë were standing with their own bows and quivers. 

"You silly boy," Arwen called, when Elladan was still several yards away, "You should know better than to walk behind the target range."

Elladan favored her with a dry smile. "I suppose that I had too much faith in Rivendell archers. I did not think that there was one elf among us who could miss a target altogether by six inches."

Arwen grinned. "Ah, but you did not take into account the visiting archers from the Mithlond*. After meeting at the festival, Nessúlë and I found that we had much in common – including a mediocre talent with the bow. We decided to practice together since neither one of us could possibly laugh at the other one, being both equally challenged."

Nessúlë laughed merrily. "It's true, neither one of us can claim to be brilliant with the use of the bow. But, in defense of myself, I must say that never have I missed a target before. I believe that the blame must lie with the fletching of my arrow; I tried to make it myself, but as you see, I lack sufficient skill." She grinned impishly. "I am sorry for startling you so. But, I daresay it did you good. You looked as if you were sleep walking over there, but I think that you are sufficiently alert now."

Elladan certainly was more aware of his surroundings. Also, being near his sister always helped to calm his ruffled his nerves. But still, all was not quite right with him; his eyes still held a dull pain, and Arwen could see it. 

Trying to ignore it, Arwen inquired cheerfully, "And shall you join us brother?"

"That was my intention, but I'm not entirely sure that it's safe to stand within a hundred yards of you two."

Nessúlë rolled her eyes. "Ah, but the closer you are the safer you are. Even I could not create an arrow that turned directly back from the way it was sent."

Arwen grinned. "Not yet anyway – she's still working on that one."

Nessúlë sent Arwen an evil stare. Elladan just chuckled softly. He smiled: it felt good to laugh again.

"The two of you certainly have gotten along quickly," he commented. To Nessúlë he whispered confidentially, "She only teases people who don't annoy her." 

Arwen laughed, then countered with a sly grin, "That's not entirely true. I tease Hallandakil all the time… just not while he's around." 

"Hallandakil?" Nessúlë inquired.

"Oh, he's just another one of Arwen's unfortunate suitors," Elladan explained, "a particularly tenacious suitor: he doesn't seem to know when to call it quits."

"Ah, I see. I can sympathize with you greatly, Arwen; I've had a few of those myself."

As they were speaking Elrohir had appeared on the archery field and made his way toward the small group.

"What have you had, Lady Nessúlë?" he inquired.

She looked pointedly at him and replied, "Unwanted suitors."

A strange look came into Elrohir's eyes, but Elladan did not know what to make of it, so he ignored it. "Well, I don't know about you all, but I came here to practice. Shall we take to our bows for a while? Perhaps we can make a sport of it – see who can miss the target by most without trying."

The two women groaned, and Arwen shoved him playfully. Elrohir looked confused, but then muttered, "I don't even want to know."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oloriel gazed timidly into the clearing where she usually met with Kallindo. He was there, sitting on the ground, cleaning one of his blades. Oloriel noticed that the blade already looked clean, but Kallindo was still attacking it with determined vigor. Stepping out carefully into the open she commented, "I believe that your blade will be shining as brightly as a Silmaril* if you keep that up."

Kallindo started slightly and looked up. His eyes held a mixture of fear and hope. Since he had heard her muttered comment the morning before he was not sure what to believe. Did she despise him? Did she care for him? Could she possibly ever love him? He didn't know. But he was determined to make the best of the current situation and try again. He decided that the best thing he could do was to act as if nothing had ever happened – start from square one.

"Well, I had nothing better to do. And, since you were late…" he smirked, "But, I suppose I shall forgive you. You're looking so lovely this afternoon that I couldn't hold anything against you if I tried."

Oloriel was slightly taken aback. She had expected a hurt Kallindo, a bitter Kallindo, but here he was, acting like the cocky gentleman that he always was. 'Well, at least he doesn't seem to hate me now. Perhaps he has gotten over his foolishness and wants to repair the damage. Perhaps we can still be friends.' Oloriel brightened visibly at this thought.

"So, if I throw dirt in your eyes during our match you won't get mad at me like you did the last time?" She inquired innocently.

Kallindo cocked an eyebrow and looked pointedly in her direction. "Good looks will only get you so far, Aiwë. Come now: ready yourself. We must get to work and make up for lost time."

Oloriel rolled her eyes then flashed him a challenging smile. "I'm always ready."

"Then let the games begin."

Soon, any awkwardness that might have remained was lost in the heat of competition.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Alright brother, enough pretending – what's wrong?" Elrohir cut straight to the chase after he and Elladan had parted ways with the ladies.

Elladan smiled dryly. 'I'm not sure if I should feel blessed or annoyed by your talent for reading me."

"It doesn't take much talent. You're emanating misery so strongly that I wouldn't be surprised if grandmother* could feel it in the Golden Wood. What _is _the matter?"

"Well, if you must know," Elladan relented, "My turmoil is caused by an _elleth _{she-elf}."

"Lunyellë?"

"No… Oloriel."

Elrohir's eyebrows shot up. "Good old 'green-eyes'? What could she possibly have done to make you look so forlorn? It's not like you're in love with her."

There was no reply. The poignant silence told Elrohir everything he needed to know.

"I don't believe it: you _are _in love with her. How could you fall in love with someone you've never met?"

Elladan sighed. "I have met her… sort of… just not face to face... I mean, I do know her – I know everything I need to know… I just… I love her, Elrohir."

His brother started laughing. Elladan did not take very kindly to it. "It's not like you've never pined over a girl. You take one look at a pretty face and fancy yourself in love. I have gotten to know Oloriel, and… and it's not like it's my fault."

Elrohir's laughing toned down to a soft chuckle. "I am sorry, brother – I did not mean to mock you. It's just that I've never seen you looking so… so lovesick. It will take me a while to get used to. Now tell me – what is the trouble? Does the lady not return your affections?"

Elladan took this opening to unfold everything that had gone on so far between him and Oloriel. It felt good to get it all off his chest. To his credit, Elrohir listened in concerned silence, realizing that his brother really did need some counsel. When the tale was finished Elrohir made the first observation that came to his mind.

"So, you never really told her that you love her?"

"Well… no."

"Then you don't really know anything, do you? She could have interpreted the kiss any number of ways. Maybe she thinks you're just playing with her, maybe she's frightened, I don't know. But, neither do you. You're not going to give up just because of what you think she thinks, are you? And even if she doesn't love you… well, that's the whole fun of it. There's a reason why the old stories always talk of heroes 'winning' fair maidens – you can't win something without a fight. You have to wheedle, convince, plead, sweep her off her feet – anything to make her understand. Didn't it occur to you that if she's worth having, then she's worth fighting for? Don't give up so easily."

Elladan stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened slightly and a look of understand passed through them. "I… I never really thought of it that way… I just assumed –"

His words were cut off as Elrohir started chuckling again. "For being so wise you certainly can be thick-headed sometimes."

Elladan rolled his eyes, but chose to ignore the jibe, instead attacking his brother from a different front. "I saw that strange glint in your eyes when you first spoke with Lady Nessúlë this afternoon. And the way she looked at you when she spoke of 'unwanted suitors' was quite mysterious to me. What goes on there?"

"To tell you the truth, I'm not quite sure. She's intriguing, intelligent, and friendly, but a little guarded at times. I definitely get the feeling that she's trying to scare me, and every other available male, away from the thought of pursuing her. That wouldn't normally stop me, except that I'm not sure if I want to pursue her. I enjoy her company so much that I'm not sure if I want to spoil it by falling in love." Elrohir grinned cheerfully. "I'll let you know if anything changes.

Elladan returned the grin, and the brothers continued down the path in companionable silence.

~~~

A wind came up the valley and ruffled through the trees, filling the air with the soothing sound of rustling leaves. Elladan's hair caught in the breeze slightly as he stood on his balcony. Breathing deeply the cool night air, he tilted his head back and gazed up into the starry sky. His mood had definitely improved since this morning.

He had been thinking on Elrohir's words, and they had greatly altered his out-look. After all, it made sense – why should he give up before he had even tried? He loved Oloriel; he would have to make her understand the way he felt about her. He let a grin creep across his face. 'You won't get away so easily, Oloriel – I'm not giving you up without a fight.'

***

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A/N: This chapter was shorter than usual, but I didn't have time to do anything epic b/c I'm leaving again for a week and I just wanted to make sure that you all had a little something to hold you over. = ) I hope that this chapter was more 'fun' that the last. Can't you just see the gears in Elladan's brain turning? ; )

1. i'Merendë Enaylië: "The Feast to Remember (or, The Feast of Remembrance)"

2. Mithlond is another name for the Grey Havens.

3. I don't even know the whole story, but Silmaril is a jewel created by Fëanor(?), and it is supposed to be absolutely dazzling.

4. Galadriel is, of course, their grandmother

Names to Know:

Oloriel: "dream daughter"

Kallindo: "noble heart"

Aiwë: "small bird"

Hallandakil; "tall victor" 

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I didn't have time to reply to everyone… I gotta run out the door soon… = ) 

Welcome Crimson Starlight, Name, Spot's Girl, Mrs. Ekeena Greenleaf, and namarie2legolas… 

Now repeat after me "I will be a good reader and review… I will be a good LotR fan and review… I will be a good citizen of Middle-Earth and review…" Got that? Good…

~Iluvien~


	15. Do You Trust Me?

Things you need to know about this story...

1.) Elven dreams are very realistic

2.) Elves shouldn't normally meet *real* people along the Olórë Mallë (Path of Dreams)... but something happens in this story that is not normal

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

'*' signals a footnote

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A/N: This chapter is shorter than usual, but it just seemed to be finished. I have a good idea of what's going to happen next, but it didn't seem to fit in with the mood of this chapter. I hope you enjoy it anyway. = )

______________________

Chapter 15.) Do You Trust Me?

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"O braided dusks of the oak and woven shades of the vine,  
While the riotous noon-day sun of the June-day long did shine  
Ye held me fast in your heart and I held you fast in mine…"

– Sydney Lanier

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***

Recap: Same evening as last chapter. Elladan has decided that he's not going to give Oloriel up without a fight. Oloriel thinks that Elladan doesn't love her, but is determined to treat him as a friend to make up for her coldness the night before.

Oloriel slid under the covers cautiously that night. Her mind was racing in several directions, and she couldn't seem to regulate her breathing very well. Every nerve seemed to be set on edge as she nestled down under the blankets. She had determined in her mind to treat Elladan as she always had, but now that it came to it, she wasn't sure how she would manage being around him. 

'Stop being so irrational!' she chided herself, 'He is just a friend, there is no reason to be nervous.' She continued to repeat this thought over and over to herself until she fell asleep…

She drifted off into an ancient gnarled forest. Moss and vines hung from every tree limb, and only occasionally did small amounts of light filter through between the entwined branches. There was an overwhelming quiet about the place – as if nothing had disturbed it for centuries. A small, rugged path lay ahead of her; slowly she began to follow it, wondering where it would lead her. As she came around a bend in the path, her question was answered. The small trail led straight to the base of an old, massive oak tree and there ended. Despite the lack of sunlight, small white flowers surrounded the base of the tree, creating a soft, rippling carpet. Amid its leaves, and all throughout the air floated small glowing lights, which could have been lightening bugs, but were not.

Oloriel slowly approached the massive roots of the tree; they seemed to be arranged quite conveniently above ground, with the wood curving this way and that to provide seats and benches for anyone who might pass by. She took position on a particularly massive root, and then looked around expectantly, wondering what would happen next.

After several minutes of silence, Oloriel began to grow apprehensive. It was a beautiful, dear old forest, but these dream-trees were not real – she could not feel their consciousness, their being, as she could real ones. She felt lonely and unsettled. It struck her as odd that she never used to have such difficulty in sleep when she was young; there was always a peacefulness to be found in dreams. But now everything was different – she felt restless, expectant. Without thinking of what she was doing, she began to sing; this usually helped to calm her ruffled nerves. The dense, mysterious forest around her brought an old and beloved song to mind.

__

Will you wait for me beneath the twirling vines? 

The hanging sky

Is but a memory within these dripping shadows.

The sun, careening down, comes splashing through the trees

And over leaves

Until it spills its fairy gold across the ground.

I have wandered far since morning in the meadows bright and fair 

But in the silence

Of the sunset I will hope to find you there.

I search beyond the reach of sunlight, 'neath the long and sleepy branches

Sleepy quiet and

Seclusion of these bent and creaking forms.

And the whisper of the leaves, the stirring of the grass

The slurring of 

The stream, spread a peace as thick as fog.

I will look for you in twilight, mid the pulsing of the air

And in the pale

Of silent evening, I will hope to find you there. 

Won't you wait for me beneath the twirling vines?

The huddled night

Will not seem quite so lonely underneath your gentle smile.

I am almost to that place, lovely solace of the willow,

May your arms

Be waiting there to surround my yielding form.

I will search for you beneath the stars, with stardust in my hair

_And in_ _the softening_

Glow of moonlight, I will hope to find you there.*

The song came fluttering to an end and Oloriel sighed contentedly. She leaned back against the tree and began humming softly to herself; a smile crept back onto her face.

She brought the lilting tune to an abrupt halt when she heard a movement to her right. Turning to see what had caused the disturbance, her eyes came in contact with a pair of all-too-familiar brown ones.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan had gone to sleep that night with an irrepressible enthusiasm. He was not sure how he would do it, but he was determined to win Oloriel, even if it took him a thousand years to do it. He smiled to himself as he wandered underneath the shadowy trees in his dream: the picture of Oloriel, older and more beautiful, rolling her eyes and giving a melodramatic sigh before she finally gave into him was quite amusing. He could hear her voice now, saying, "Oh alright, I'll marry you… but only because I'm tired of your pestering." Then she would chuckle softly, throw him a crooked smile, and twine her arms around his neck before she kissed him… 

Elladan was brought abruptly out of his reverie by the sound of Oloriel's voice. He felt a little silly for letting his daydream run away with him. Focusing back on what was at hand he realized that somewhere ahead of him and to the left Oloriel had begun to sing. He couldn't see her, but he would have known her voice anywhere. Walking quietly, he came into sight of Oloriel, but held back behind the trunk of a large tree. She looked so peaceful when she was singing, her eyes closed, and her face tilted slightly upward as if she were singing to the trees.

Elladan recognized the song – it was written a great many years ago, and had been one of his mother's favorites. She had told him once that it reminded her of when she was being courted by his father, and how she would sometimes arrange to meet him in one of Imladris' secluded glades after sunset. This memory alone made the song one of his favorites as well. He smiled softly as he watched Oloriel bring the song to a close.

__

…May your arms

Be waiting there to surround my yielding form.

I will search for you beneath the stars, with stardust in my hair

_And in_ _the softening_

Glow of moonlight, I will hope to find you there…

At the moment his arms itched to hold her, but he didn't know how 'yielding' she would be. He sighed inaudibly. 'I have to start sometime,' he thought to himself. And with that, he stepped out from behind the tree, rustling the leaves of a branch as he brushed it aside.

Oloriel's head turned quickly at the sound; her eyes found his almost instantly, and the peaceful aura that had once resided on her face was shattered, to be replaced by a look of uncertainty and confusion.

Elladan swallowed nervously and then came forward. He stopped a few feet away from Oloriel and spoke. "Would you possibly allow… um, could… could we perhaps…" Elladan sighed in exasperation – this was not the eloquent speech he had had planned. He finally blurted out: "Do you want me to leave?"

Oloriel could not help smiling slightly – he had that confused elf-ling look on his face again. She cleared her throat tentatively. "Um, no… no, you may stay." Feeling that this was still rather cold she went just a bit farther: "I would… enjoy your company."

Elladan's mood seemed to lighten slightly at this, his features returning to their usual, calm state. Secretly, Oloriel couldn't help regretting this. Somewhere in her mind a voice whispered, _'He looks much more adorable the other way.'_ Annoyed with her straying thoughts she exclaimed without thinking, "Oh hush!" 

Elladan took a step back, confusion returning to his eyes. 

__

'There's that face again,' her inner voice continued, unconcerned that it was causing discomfort for its mistress. Thoroughly flustered by the fact that she was arguing out loud with her own rebellious mind, Oloriel could not contain the blush that was beginning to flow across her skin. This did nothing to help stem the tide of self-consciousness that had already welled up within her.

"Is something the matter?" Elladan inquired.

"Oh no… no, it's nothing," she replied, turning her flushed face away from him as she absent-mindedly began brushing her fingers across a jagged edge of the tree, where a chunk of wood seemed to have been ripped out.

"Ai!" she exclaimed, drawing her hand back quickly and cradling it against herself. 

Elladan came to her side. "What happened? Are you alright?"

Oloriel sighed loudly. "Oh it's nothing – I've just gone and put a splinter in my finger …What _is_ wrong with my dreams?" she cried petulantly, "Nothing is as it should be. Who ever heard of being hurt in a dream? Splinters indeed…" She continued on, muttering under her breath against the injustice of the world.

Elladan couldn't help smiling slightly – she looked adorable when she was aggravated. "Here, let me see," he spoke softly. Taking her hand gently but firmly he inspected the offending object. A small sliver of wood was almost thoroughly imbedded in the soft skin of one of her delicate fingers. He was not sure if he could get it out, but he would try anyway. 

"May I…?" he inquired, glancing up at her.

Oloriel hesitated before nodding her consent. She was not entirely sure that her voice would have functioned properly. Her cheeks were still tinged with pink and the fact that Elladan was now holding her hand, massaging along the finger to try and work the splinter out, did not help matters. She knew that she was acting foolishly; there was simply no reason to be so nervous or childish. She kept trying to tell herself this, but it just wasn't working. For some reason she felt it was imperative that she put some distance between herself and Elladan. Unfortunately, however, at the moment her hand was firmly encased in his two strong ones, and she had the feeling that he would not relinquish his hold easily. And so, having no alternative, Oloriel sat there obediently, trying very hard to _not_ notice how close Elladan was standing and, strangely enough, how nice he smelled. 'Like trees...' she mused, before calling her mind back to a stern attention.

"Ah! – here we are," Elladan exclaimed as he successfully withdrew the splinter of wood after several minutes of effort. Oloriel breathed a sigh of relief: now she would get her hand back. However, her hopes did not reach fruition. Instead of releasing the injured hand, Elladan took up her other one as well and gave them both a gentle squeeze.

"Come now, _mellon_{friend} – something is wrong. Won't you tell me?"

Oloriel met his gaze but then quickly turned away. Trying to sound cheerful, she replied, "No. No, there's nothing. I… I think I should like to explore this place." With that Oloriel sprang up from her seat and tried to depart, but Elladan would not release her hands.

"Oloriel… Oloriel please look at me." Reluctantly, Oloriel raised her eyes to his. Elladan sighed raggedly; they did not look on him with trust, the way they used to. "What have I done to make you so afraid of me? I swear I'll never do it again."

Oloriel was taken aback by this question and by the look in his eyes: they radiated pain and… longing? Oloriel's mind was whirling in confusion – she didn't know what to think or say, all she knew was that she couldn't stand to see so much pain in Elladan's eyes. "Oh Elladan, it's not true. I'm not afraid of you, it's just…it's… I can't explain, I'm so muddled… Please don't look at me like that… I… I can't bear it." Oloriel felt like her heart was being squeezed in a vice; unshed tears began to sparkle in her eyes as she tried in vain to pull her hands away from Elladan's grasp.

Elladan turned his head away to try and spare her what pain he could. 'How did things come to this?' he wondered, 'And how do I begin to fix them?' When he had regained some control over his raging emotions, he turned back to face the girl, his hands still surrounding hers. She had ceased to struggle against his hold on her, and now stood with head bent. She looked so small at that moment, so vulnerable; Elladan felt an almost overwhelming surge of protectiveness rise up within him. He wanted to guard her against anything that would ever dare to hurt her – even himself. 

"Oloriel," he began softly, "I am grieved at the thought that I may have hurt you – please know that I never meant to. You have become… very dear to me, and I hate the thought that I may have done something to push you away. I don't understand everything that has happened between us, but I ask you… I beg you to grant me one last request before you flee from me." 

Oloriel raised her eyes to him in question. With breathless hope Elladan released her hands and answered her silent inquiry. "Please trust me one more time – as you used to. I vow that I will do everything in my power to never betray that trust… it is precious to me." 

The _elleth _{she-elf} did not know what to say. Something inside her was still telling her to run away, to get out of danger, but she couldn't move any more – Elladan's deep eyes held her motionless. Finally, the true import of the words struck her heart and created a small ripple in her spirit. He cared for her in some way; he wanted her confidence and trust. 'For all of Arda, I can't imagine why he goes to so much trouble over me – I'm sure I've done nothing to deserve it,' she thought to herself. 

It was all a little overwhelming: here, standing in front of her, was a truly noble, utterly confusing, infuriatingly hard-to-stay-angry-with elf, who seemed to actually care what she thought of him. This was the Elladan she knew; this was the elf that had drawn her back into the light with his open, caring manner. How could she resist his plea? It couldn't be dangerous… could it? After all, he just wanted her friendship, and that she could give. Smiling softly, she reached out to take up one of Elladan's hands, squeezing it gently. "You shall always have my trust, Elladan son of Elrond."

Elladan's face broke into a brilliant smile. At that moment he had an intense urge to sweep the girl up into his arms and kiss her senseless, but he restrained the feeling admirably. Instead he merely swept up her hand to his lips, placed a feather-light kiss upon it, and then deposited it safely within the crook of his arm. Looking up and around at the massive trees and hazy lights he asked, "Now that we've settled that, shall I take the lady on a tour of this fine wood? We can talk as we go."

Oloriel carefully swept up her long skirt in one hand, then smiled timidly at Elladan. "I think… I think that sounds like a lovely idea." 

The two spent the rest of the night roaming arm-in-arm throughout the old, shadowy forest; their pathway illuminated by the sparks of light that were floating in the air and the glow of hope that was rekindled in their hearts.

***

1. The "song" is an original poem by Iluvien (Me!). If any one can come up with a good title for it I'd be much obliged to them. 

Stuff to Know:

Oloriel: dream daughter

elleth: she-elf

mellon: friend

This one seems to be brainwashing you all quite well, so let's use it again. ^_~

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Repeat After Me: "I will be a good reader and review… I will be a good LotR fan and review… I will be a good citizen of Middle-Earth and review…" Got that? Good…

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Hey Guys: Get ready for some catching up… sorry I ignored you all in the last post…

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Calenore: On ch13: I know what you mean… I feel sorry for Kallindo too. In fact, I have to watch him carefully to make sure he doesn't pull me off plot with those puppy-dog eyes of his… ^_~ Well, Oloriel hasn't fully come to her senses yet, but she's getting there I think. I'm glad you like my 'emotions'. Sometimes I feel like maybe I'm getting too angsty or melodramatic – nice to hear that someone's enjoying it. On ch14: You didn't really think Elladan would give up did you? I know, I love the twins too… they just do what they do, and I'm never quite sure if I have a say in it or not. Glad you like the quotes! = )

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icy878: On ch13: So, you like the father-son bonding moments, eh? Maybe I can work in a few more of those. = ) Yep, Elladan's finally woken up to smell the coffee. Don't worry, Oloriel won't be scarred for life over hearing the wrong thing. = ) On ch14: Hehehe, I think Elrohir is going to have some interesting experiences with "that girl" (Nessule). Elladan appreciates your enthusiasm for his cause… = )

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Crimson Starlight: Yay! All hail the angst!!! *does a little tribal dance* Oh my oh my… I've been so lazy and haven't been checking out the fanfics of my reviewers lately… thanks for reminding me, even if you are too lazy to work on yours. = )

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Diadora: I know! Isn't fanfiction great? So addicting and sooooo endless. = ) 

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Elisabeth Celebros: On ch13: Yep, gotta love the angst. I hope you liked this chapter… my characters aren't nearly so miserable now. = ) Ooh – Tuor and Idril? I just read a 1 chapter vignette on them and I wouldn't mind knowing more. I've never actually read any of the pre-Hobbit history of ME, so most of my knowledge comes from stuff I piece together from fanfiction. ^_~ On ch14: How was this chapter for 'making up for the angst'? Actually, I don't think Oloriel _will _be waking up with a headache tomorrow… we'll see. Since I was also gone for a week you haven't missed anything. = )

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TigerLily713: Sung to the tune of "Hail to the Chief": *hail to the angst it's the thing we all say hail to… we all say hail 'cause it makes us want to scream…* Hope you liked this chapter – was it worth the wait?

**Allyrien Chantel de Montreve**: Glad you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It's amazing how many more reviews I've gotten since I put up the "repeat after me" mantra. Of course, I could keep my hopes up and think that's it's not b/c I brain-washed everyone, but b/c my story's getting better. ^_~

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Mrs. Ekeens Greenleaf: Yay! Someone else likes how emotional I'm getting. I'm sorry this update was a little late. = ( LOL – sometimes I wish I wasn't writing this story either … it would make everything soooo much easier ^_~ Well, Elladan hasn't told her yet, but I think you'll agree that they are making progress. = )

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namarie2legolas: I like Elladan myself. = ) It's actually surprising to me now to go back to FotR and see how little is actually said about the twins… I feel like they were always this much a part of Tolkien's world. Hmm… I've never read Adromir's fics – I'll have to check her out. Glad you like the quotes. = ) Hey, if anyone other than Oloriel gets Elladan it will be me! *tries to look menacing but fails miserably* oh well… maybe I can find a nice quiet chap without pointy ears…. = ( I hope that you were able to hang onto the edge of that cliff long enough for this chapter to get here… = ) I hope Elladan handle the situation well. It took me so long to figure out how I would write this chapter… it's a very delicate thing, having your hero woo the heroine… not too slow, not too fast, not to mushy, not too stark… my heads beginning to hurt = P

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Orangeblossom Took1: Gosh, I'm going crazy trying to decide just _when _they will meet… it's very hard to say… Glad you like the brothers. = )

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Kalythianna: Sorry, I can't promise to go easy on 'em. = ) Of course, this chapter was pretty cheery at the end, but who knows – there could be a few more bumps along the way *evil laughter* 

Welcome **SistineChap**

Elentari Taure: lol – I love reading til 1am, when you can't stop reading and there are more delicious chapters left…. Glad that I was able to inspire this kind of addiction. ^_~ 

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Bratprincess: Isn't it great? At last Elladan has come to his senses. And no – you are certainly not the only one interested in Elrohir's love-life, but I can't write about it much now, b/c I'm thinking about writing a whole other story for him…. He was feeling a little left out that his brother got all the attention. ^_~ I hope this chapter flowed well…. I think it all fit together nicely. = )

Wow, took almost as long as writing the darn chapter! See how much trouble I go to for my faithful reviewers… don't you want to be the object of this finger-breaking devotion? That's right – just click the little purple button and you too shall become part of the saga… = ) 

~Ilúvien~


	16. A Revelation

Disclaimer: I own my OCs and plot-line, I own only my OCs and plot-line….

Things you need to know about this story...

Nothing! Because I've been telling you what you need to know for the last 15 chapters, and if you haven't caught on by now, you're probably still in preschool and can't read anyway! ^_~

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A/N: hey guys, sorry this took so long to update… I usually don't take a whole week to write a chapter, but I was being kind of slow and lazy at first. I like the outcome though – hope it is worth the wait. = )

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Chapter 16.) A Revelation 

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"O friend! I know not which way I must look for comfort…"

William Wordsworth 

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Recap: Elladan and Oloriel are at least talking again. It has been about a week since the events in the last chapter.

Elladan looked longingly at the fluttering leaves outside his study window. It was some time past noon; he had been dealing with letters and reports all day, and was starting to feel that, had he been born a stable boy instead of a nobleman, life might have been much more pleasant. He felt cramped inside – he needed fresh air – but at the moment the glass that separated him from the outdoors might as well have been a brick wall. Stacks of unattended papers beckoned to him mercilessly. There seemed to be no way out of his prison… but then again, perhaps there was.

Elladan looked slyly toward his fellow-laborer. Tulkarka, an attendant and pupil under Lord Beledhel, had been sent to him that morning with several messages and reports, which he was now sorting in order of importance for Elladan to read. Tulkarka was enamored on Lord Beledhel's youngest daughter, Nindelanya. Elladan knew this; in fact, it seemed as though everyone in court _except_ Lord Beledhel knew this, and Tulkarka wanted to keep it that way. As a young, inexperienced, and relatively unimportant elf, there was not much chance that Lord Beledhel would look kindly on his interest in Nindelanya – not yet anyway. It was well known that Tulkarka would latch onto any opportunity that might in some way advance his prestige or cause Lord Beledhel to shine his pleased beneficence down upon him. With an evil smirk, Elladan realized that he could play this tendency to his advantage.

Assuming a most casual and innocent demeanor, Elladan began the conversation. "I saw those reports you drew up a few days ago, Tulkarka, they were truly quite professional. You have a good hand and a very excellent writing style. Why does not Lord Beledhel set you to do more of them? It must be more interesting than running messages."

Tulkarka looked up from the papers and sighed. "Lord Beledhel still thinks me unready; he says that I need to ease into more important duties."

The corners of Elladan's mouth twitched suspiciously. "Well, what would you think of proving him otherwise?"

Tulkarka threw him a questioning look.

Elladan coughed slightly to restrain his mirth. "As much as I _enjoy_ relaxing in the quiet of my study, and as much as I feel duty-bound to see to this paperwork myself, I feel that I could find it in my heart to lay all that aside for the purpose of aiding another's worthy cause… Why don't _you_ finish writing these letters and reports? In a few days, I will test the waters and see what Lord Beledhel thinks of them. And, if his view is favorable, I shall tell him who the true author was, and put in a few good words for you besides. I'm sure Lord Beledhel will be pleased – he loves personal initiative – and," here Elladan paused for effect, arching one eyebrow slightly, "Nindelanya will certainly be glad to know that she owns the affections of such a promising young statesman." 

Elladan could hardly restrain his laughter as a dreamy look began to creep into Tulkarka's face. "Do… do you really think that will work?"

"No doubt," encouraged Elladan, "I know that you are up to the challenge. I will look over the reports myself, before I send them off, to make sure that there are no gross errors. It will be good experience for you and I think it will be most profitable in other ways as well."

Tulkarka smiled brightly. Elladan had never seen anyone look so happy at the prospect of doing hours of paperwork in a dusty study while the sun was shining brightly outside. 'But,' he thought cheerily, 'that _is _the nature of love. If a year's worth of paperwork lay between Oloriel and myself I would do it with a song in my heart.'

A small shadow descended on Elladan's face – if only it was that easy. He had spent the last several encounters with Oloriel just making sure that she felt comfortable around him, but in his heart he wanted so much more. He wasn't about to become discouraged, though; he would win her in the end.

Elladan chuckled softly. 'Poor Tulkarka – we're both of us lost, aren't we?'

*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

"The next time you ask me to help you with baking, remind me to say no." A very flour-covered Oloriel crossed her arms in front of her and tried, rather unsuccessfully, to look cross.

Írima only laughed. "It is not my fault you are so messy – you cannot blame this on me."

Oloriel screwed up her face in thought. "Well… perhaps we can blame it on Almárië then."

Almárië didn't seem very happy with this compromise, as she woke up and promptly began to cry.

"I suppose it must be supper time," Írima observed with a crooked smile, "My child is almost as accurate as an hour glass – she _always_ knows when it's time to eat."

Both _elleths _chuckled, as Oloriel turned back to finish cleaning up the spilled flour, and Írima went to console her wailing child.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan was wandering down one of Imladris' many hidden paths, the evening sun shining on his face, and the wind sending a cheerful ripple through the leaves around him, when he suddenly had the urge to sing. He had once told Oloriel that he was no songbird, and this was true, but every elf needs to float a few notes every once in a while. He opened his mouth to do so, but before the melody could come flowing out he heard voices somewhere up ahead on his right, behind the mesh of foliage. His mouth clamped shut again. Normally he would have ignored the voices and walked by, but instead he paused in his tracks… was that Elrohir's voice? Elladan smiled; he hadn't really talked to his twin since their conversation almost a week ago concerning Oloriel, and even though his free afternoon was almost spent, perhaps he and his brother could still manage to get into some trouble together before supper.

Elladan made his way into the trees, moving carefully so as not to make a sound. It was a game started centuries ago between the brothers, always trying to see if they could sneak up on each other without the other one noticing. It usually didn't work, but this time Elladan had an advantage – his brother was distracted by something else… or, more accurately, someoneelse. 

Elrohir and Nessúlë sat in the middle of a glade talking away cheerfully. Nessúlë sat cross-legged, her copious skirts spilling across the grass, hands unconsciously braiding flowers together as she spoke; Elladan was sprawled a little less formally along the ground in front of her, head propped up on his hand. From where he lurked, Elladan could see the profiles of both their faces. 

Letting his curiosity take hold of him, Elladan did not make himself known, choosing rather to watch the two of them as they interacted. After a few minutes of observation he began to think that he had them mostly figured out. 

When Nessúlë was looking at Elrohir, both of them behaved as easy friends, talking and laughing and poking fun at each other. But every so often Nessúlë would let her eyes come to rest on her hands, which were busily stringing flowers together. When this happened, Elrohir's face seemed to transform; his smile dimmed, and his eyes took on a brooding, thirsty look as he let them rove over Nessúlë's face, and yes, even occasionally, her form. As soon as Nessúlë looked back up, however, the brilliant, carefree Elrohir would return.

'So that is the game you are playing at, brother.' Elladan mused. A small smile tugged at the edges of his mouth. Apparently his brother was finding it harder and harder to ignore Nessúlë, and apparently Nessúlë had no idea of the storm that was brewing beneath his brother's calm exterior.

A few moments later Nessúlë stood, shaking flowers and flower-petals off of her skirt. "It is getting late, and I need to change before dinner – I think I've put a few grass-stains in this dress. I shall see you there." With that she began to walk off directly.

Elrohir jumped up quickly and called out to her. "Hold a moment, I shall walk you back."

Nessúlë rolled her eyes. "I shall not get lost, Elrohir, nor do I think I shall be eaten by a wandering drake. Did not you say that you needed to speak with Anarseldo before supper, anyway? You should go and find him, for you do not have much time."

"It is not that important, I can see him there. I would much rather spend a few more pleasant minutes with you. You wouldn't grudge your humble servant that, would you?" Elrohir tried to look innocent and irresistible.

Nessúlë just laughed at him. "Yes, I would; if only because you are being so silly. Be gone with you, I will see you at supper."

It looked as though Elrohir was going to continue pressing his cause, but he never got the chance to. Elladan finally yielded to an impulse that he had been fighting for several moments now. Picking up a small pebble he threw it with unerring accuracy at his brother's temple.

"Ai!" Elrohir exclaimed as he brought his hand up to where the offending object had struck him. Elladan's rich laughter started pouring from the trees, causing Elrohir to look curiously in that direction. Annoyed with the antics of his attacker, Elrohir turned impatiently back to Nessúlë, only to find that she had left the scene while his attention was occupied.

"Very funny, brother," Elrohir muttered without looking behind him, "I'm sure you found that highly amusing." 

Elladan shook off his laughter and replied with a smirk, "I was only rescuing the fair maiden – nothing you wouldn't have done in my place."

Shaking his head in defeat, Elrohir walked off in search of Anarseldo… or supper – whichever came first.

Elladan watched his brother go, and then allowed his feet to start moving again; supper did sound good, so he let them wander in that general direction. But before he could make it very far out of the glade, something very strange and very disturbing happened. 

For a moment he thought that he would once again hear Oloriel in his mind. The same sort of sensations rippled across him as he remembered from weeks past. But this time there was more: a bright light flashed suddenly in his eyes, leaving him dazed for several moments. When his vision finally cleared, he found himself surrounded by endless white; no ceiling or floor could be seen; yet he seemed to be standing firmly on level ground. Before anything else could happen the soft murmuring of a voice began to surround him. Turning to see where it was coming from, he was struck speechless by the sight that met him: there, standing several feet away, was Oloriel, and behind her stood… grandmother?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oloriel had finally rid herself of all the excess flour and dough that had clung to her person. This feat had required a bath and a change of clothes, but the effort was well worth it in the end. No longer did she feel like a half-baked pastry.

She was strolling along beneath the mallorn trees when an elf-maiden approached her.

"Lady Oloriel?" she inquired softly.

Oloriel turned to face her, smiling softly. "I am no lady of importance, but, yes, my name is Oloriel."

The other maiden returned her smile. "I have been sent to bid you to the Lady's presence."

There could be no question as to which lady was being referred to. Oloriel nodded her head in acknowledgement. "I will follow you there directly."

~~~

Oloriel approached the small, secluded garden cautiously. She came down a flight of steps, and bowed low to the Lady of Light, who stood before a raised basin at the center of the garden.

"Welcome dream daughter," she greeted Oloriel, then turned to the other maiden, "You may leave us now."

For several minutes Oloriel stood uncertainly beneath the gaze of Galadriel. The Lady seemed to be gazing right through her, searching for something, uncovering in a glance everything she wanted to know. After the silence had reigned for some time, Galadriel finally turned her eyes away and broke the silence.

"There is much that you do not understand, but many things may be found if you will take the time to look for them. What is it that confuses you, dream daughter? What is it that you seek?"

Oloriel thought carefully over these words, then replied slowly, "I am confused about so many things, I don't know where to begin any more. All I seek is peace."

"Peace?" Galadriel questioned softly. "Do you know what it is you ask for? Peace may be found in different ways – do you seek to escape the storm or weather it?"

"I am afraid that I don't understand."

Galadriel approached Oloriel and gently touched her cheek. "Will you run away from the confusion, or will you face it and conquer it? Dark times are upon us, and you must choose to fight if ever you wish to see the light again; peace will not be found easily. The Valar have placed in you a unique gift – will you use it?"

"A gift? What gift?" Oloriel questioned frantically, "How can I use what I don't even know I possess?"

Galadriel turned away from Oloriel and began to walk back toward the raised basin. "You are truly a daughter of dreams, blessed of Irmo*. Through him your dreams can both harm and heal, bring both confusion and clarity; but most importantly, through them your spirit can touch others… has already touched another."

"Elladan…" The word came spilling out of Oloriel's mouth before she could stop it. 

Galadriel turned slightly toward her. "Yes… my grandson. He too has been gifted, though in a different way; he too bears the burden. But his course is more set – yours is full of doubt."

Oloriel was more confused now than ever. "But I do not know the course that is laid before? I cannot see it. Which way should I turn?"

"Even I cannot see all things, dream daughter. But I shall tell you this, for it may guide your path: you must not allow fear to rule you, especially in your dealings with Elladan. Do not let the darkness hold you captive."

Oloriel just stood there, dazed. Never had she believed that her life in particular had been of much importance; what was it that she was destined to do? She didn't feel like she had much to offer.

In the ensuing silence, Lady Galadriel took a silver pitcher and dipped it into a nearby stream, filling it to the brim. Then, with graceful and deliberate movements she used the pitcher to fill up the basin that now stood between herself and Oloriel.

"Come, dream daughter. I bid you to look into my mirror, if you have the heart for it. Even I do not know what it will show you, but perhaps you will find some of the answers that you seek."

Oloriel knew of the mirror, and of its power. As she looked at the rippling water she was not quite sure if she wanted to know what lay within its depths; she was afraid of what she might see. But then Galadriel's words came back to her: 'you must not allow fear to rule you.' Raising her head in determination she strode forward to the mirror.

When she first looked into it there was only a normal reflection of herself, the trees, and the paling sky above, but soon the scene shifted. A deep, lush valley came into view, cut down its center by a tumbling river. Buildings of elven design were scattered along its banks and nestled under trees and on hillsides. Oloriel drew in a soft breath. 'This must be Imladris… it is beautiful.' The beauty did not last long, however. The vision was soon replaced by a bleak landscape of wind swept rocks. She saw nine figures and a pack-pony standing at the base of a high cliff. They all had cloaks wrapped tightly about them, obscuring their faces, but she could see that they were weary. Four of them looked very small, almost like children.

The view changed. She saw Kallindo, balancing on the branch of a mallorn tree, looking out beyond the borders of the golden wood. Then she saw him running through the trees, his bow strung with an arrow, as if he were chasing something. The ugly visage of an orc flashed before her then everything in the mirror went black.

When the mirror cleared again she saw a band of riders, thundering across a wide plain. They wore grays and browns, and carried no banner. They bore themselves proudly, however, and somehow she knew that honor ran deep in their blood. Just before the image faded she thought she could pick out two elves riding with them.

The next vision was of herself, but almost unrecognizable. She was clad in the clothes of a warrior and strode watchfully along the parapet of some mountain fortress. There was a ripple in the mirror and then she saw herself lying in Elladan's arms with an arrow protruding from her leg. They both looked tired and were blood-spattered, as though they had just come through a battle.

Next there was calm; a blue sky; then darkness. She began to see glimpses of a great battle. There was a white city in the distance, and all before it was chaos. Orcs and goblins and Haradrim* battled with the men of Gondor and Rohan. She saw a dwarf and an elf fighting as well; they stood back to back and destroyed every fell creature that came within reach of them. Her view shifted to another man; tall and noble he was, fighting with great zeal in the thick of the battle. His leather jerkin was emblazoned with an insignia of the White Tree. But then, out of nowhere, a black arrow came flying through the air and struck him in the back. She could see the tip of the arrow protruding out of his heart. The man fell and was trampled beneath the throng. Suddenly she saw herself again, leaning over the man's mutilated body, weeping uncontrollably. Then everything was flame. She saw cities burning, and children crying out for their dead parents. She watched as the shadow snuffed out all light and all hope. The trees fell and the smoke rose up higher and higher into the dead sky. Without realizing it, she had begun to weep, silent tears streaming down her face and falling into the mirror.

Desperately she wanted to turn away – to close her eyes against the hopelessness – but she stood transfixed, unable to move. After what seemed like hours, she finally heard Galadriel's soothing voice in her mind. _//This may yet be, but nothing is certain. There is still hope – you must never forget that. The darkness has not yet won.// _With that, the mirror cleared, stars rippling across its surface. After a few moments, Imladris came back into view; then she saw Elladan walking beneath the trees, a calm smile on his face. Without thought, her heat went out to him; she wanted the comfort that his presence so often brought. As this feeling darted through her, the smile on Elladan's face slowly faded: he turned his eyes and seemed to looks straight at her, as if he could feel her watching him. Before Oloriel could understand what was going on, a flash of light left her blinded. When she regained her sight she was no longer in Galadriel's garden, but in a realm of endless white. She looked down at herself and found that she too was clothed in white. Before she had the time to panic, she heard Galadriel's voice from behind her. "Do not fear, you are dreaming. I am in your mind now, and am with you. Speak with him."

Oloriel looked up and saw Elladan standing several feet away from her; he too was clothed in brilliant white. 

Elladan broke the silence first. "Oloriel… grandmother? What has happened?"

Oloriel let out a shaky breath. "I am sorry… we are dreaming. I… I think I may have pulled you into this dream, though I don't know how… I am so sorry. I don't know what is happening to me." Her voice trembled slightly, and her eyes pleaded with him to understand somehow, even though she herself did not understand. 

At first, Elladan did not respond. In truth, he was a little overwhelmed and frightened himself. There was more to this girl than he had ever imagined – ever bargained for. But when he met her eyes, and saw how frightened she was herself, his reserve melted. Without a word, he came near and drew her into his arms, holding her tightly against himself. Oloriel breathed a weary sigh as she let her head fall to his chest, gripping his tunic tightly with her fingers. 

"_Diola lle_ {thank you}," she whispered, "_Diola lle…_"

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1. Irmo is the Vala of dreams and visions.

2. Men from the south who lived under Sauron's shadow.

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Concerning the mirror: If some of the images confused you, here's a run-down of what Oloriel saw, even though she doesn't know what everything is yet…

Imladris

The fellowship before the walls of Moria

Kallindo on border patrol

The Gray Company (Rangers for the north, riding to aid Aragorn)

Herself, before the battle of Helm's Deep

Elladan and herself after the battle of Helm's Deep

Minis Tirith

The battle of Pelennor

Legolas and Gimli fighting

Aragorn (the White tree represents the kings of Númenor)

Aragorn being killed, and her crying over his body

Elladan, before he gets pulled into the vision/dream

Things to Remember:

Oloriel: "dream daughter"

Nessúlë: "young spirit"

elleth: she-elf

Things to Forget:

Tulkarka: "strong rock"

Nindelanya: "slender weave"

Anarseldo: "sun child"

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Lady Eleclya: I do like describing emotions…. I am, after all an emotional female. ^_~ I'm flattered that you think I've describe your feelings so precisely, seeing as I've yet to be in a romantic or "gosh, I hope this doesn't get romantic" relationship. I've always been good at faking… = P P.S. No! Don't hold your breath! I good reviewer is a conscious reviewer! ^_~

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Calenore: yes, poor confused Oloriel. I think she's even more confused now! But, you're right, Elladan is an absolute sweetheart. Sometimes I wonder if I'm making him a little too unbelievably perfect. Hopefully the little mischievous streak he just had in this chapter will help that. = )

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Bratprincess: You think Elladan was the more thick-headed of the two? Perhaps… after all, if Oloriel hadn't heard Elladan's words out of context in ch. 13 maybe she really would have gone head-over heals faster than him… the world may never know. Anyhoo, hope you liked this chapter. 

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Kalythianna: Sorry it took so long for me to update! Of course, compared to other writers I may still be fast… but usually I'm faster than this, and the only reason I didn't post sooner was b/c I was being lazy. *tsks at herself* Glad you liked the poem. = )

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Mrs. Ekeena Greenleaf: Hehehe… yes, Elladan is taking his time. But that's a good thing, b/c I need him to, otherwise my plot wouldn't work out properly! ^_~

Welcome **Anilmathiel** and **Cara4**… here, have a few e-cookies… Mmm, mint-chocolate-chip… = )

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namarie2legolas: concerning the wedding, let's just say this. I have considered it, and I've even written a rough-draft of what Elven wedding vows might be like. But, I'm not guaranteeing who will get married with those vows. ^_~ Kallindo might get a little depressed, but I promise you that he will not kill himself. 

This story is taking place in unison with the trilogy. If you look back through the chapters you'll find several references to the time-frame. For instance, at the very beginning when the twins are out with the rangers I said that they were searching for a hobbit named Frodo. Then, when the twins first came home I mentioned how Strider/Aragorn had brought the hobbits safely to Imladris. **At this time in the story, the fellowship has been on the journey for about two weeks.**

Elentari-Taure: Sorry that this post didn't come fast. = \ That doesn't mean that you can stop reviewing though! It's gonna be really tough getting into the college routine after such a lazy summer. I won't be able to stay up late all the time reading my favorite fanfics! *sniffle, sniffle*
    
****Orangeblossom Took1: *grins* yeah… it was sweet, wasn't it…. *sighs happily*
    
****Crimson Starlight: yep, repairing the angst is always fun. I bet you liked the way this chapter ended too ^_~ Aren't we all romantic at heart? = )
    
****Concetta: Poor Concetta… still waiting for him to say it, aren't you? Well, I hope he decided to say it soon, just for you… but I really don't have much control over that guy… Glad you liked the poem. = )
    
****TigerLily: Well, I can't say much to that, so… Thanks! = )
    
****icy878: lol – you crack me up. Don't worry, Elladan will wait for Oloriel… he's a steadfast kinda guy. So now you just have to work on be patient… things will work out well in the end, I promise. = )
    

*Review to enter the "Win a Cute Elf Raffle". Drop a line, and your name will be put in the bucket for a random drawing to see who gets to take home an incredibly handsome, very available elf. Other prizes include a free kiss from Elladan and an elven cloak (very handy if you want to evade the notice of wandering orcs). Review within 24 hrs. of posting and you will automatically receive a box of my homemade e-cookies. Don't wait – review now!!!*

~Iluvien~


	17. Food and the Food of Love

Disclaimer: I own my OCs and my plot-line… I own only my OCs and my plot-line…

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

'*' signals a footnote

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A/N: Please forgive my horrid Elvish grammar, all of you who know what you're doing. = )

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Chapter 17.) Food and the Food of Love

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"The sunlight clasps the earth

And the moonbeams kiss the sea

What is all this sweet work worth

If thou kiss not me?"

Percy Bysshe Shelley 

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Recap: Oloriel has gazed into Galadriel's mirror. Afterward, she somehow pulls herself, Elladan, and Galadriel into a vision/dream. Meanwhile, Elrohir is in Rivendell, searching for some supper…

As Elrohir strode out of the forest he was busy trying to settle an argument between his mind and his heart. On the one hand, he would rather avoid the banquet hall all together and just grab a bite to eat from the kitchens; he was in no mood to deal with many of the people that would be jostling for his attention at dinner. On the other hand, Nessúlë would be in the banquet hall, and if he was very clever, he could catch a seat by her and try his best to _ignore_ all of the people that would be jostling for his attention at dinner. It was a tough decision. If, in fact, he was able to sit by Nessúlë _and_ she was in the mood for conversation _and_, more particularly, she was in the mood for conversation with him, then the venture would be well worth. But the odds of all these variables coming out right were not very great. 

Nessúlë often sat at supper between her brother, Lantél, and their faithful attendant, Alarkelú. And even if this were not the case, there were a number of other people sitting around the table that she had become acquainted with, and there was no way that Elrohir could monopolize her if she was feeling in any way sociable. Elrohir sighed in frustration. 

"My, my, aren't we looking dejected?" A voice called to him from up ahead.

While he had been brooding, Elrohir had made it onto one of the wide, covered walkways that ran around and through the many buildings of Imladris. Quite a few elves were already gathered within view, talking in small groups before supper. It was an elf from one such group that had called out to him.

Elrohir looked up and found the eyes of Lantél, Alarkelú, and Hallandakil upon him. Apparently they had been in the middle of a discussion when Lantél noticed Elrohir walking toward them with a dark look on his face. It was Lantél that had addressed him.

Elrohir shook off his contemplation and approached them, trying to put the lightness back into his step. "Oh, it was nothing – just thinking about something, that's all."

Hallandakil spoke up. "It looked more like brooding to me. What cause have you to be so disturbed on today of all days? You bested everyone you sparred with in training this morning. Lord Erestor commended your supervision of the construction in the upper valley, thereby signaling that he has _finally_ forgiven you for your last escapade. And you spent almost all of the afternoon in the company of the very lovely Lady Nessúlë. What could you possibly be worried about?"

At the mention of the 'very lovely Lady Nessúlë', Lantél visibly stiffened. Elrohir noticed this, and realized that he was now walking on very thin ice; care was definitely in order. He himself was not too fond of the familiar way in which Hallandakil had referred to Nessúlë, but he was not sure how he should respond. Agree, disagree, ignore the question? He had to say something…

"Ahem… yes, I did have a fine day… most enjoyable?" he looked sideways at Lantél to see how that had gone over. It seemed fine, but he felt like he should quit while he was ahead. Hallandakil, however, had other ideas.

Throwing Elrohir a look that was supposed to be knowing and conspiratorial, he continued his interrogation. "Enjoyable? Aye, I'd say it would be. I'm sure that any available elf would have found a day spent in that lady's company most enjoyable."

At this remark both Lantél and Alarkelú bristled. Even Hallandakil seemed to notice it this time, and tried to cover for his half-witted remarks. "Your sister is, um… she's really rather clever, Lantél – quite the conversationalist."

Elrohir stifled a groan. Anyone could tell that the 'enjoyment' Hallandakil spoke of was not the kind that was found in listening to skillful word play. Hallandakil was a fool: both for thinking what he thought, and for saying it. Stepping in to try and repair the damage he muttered, "Well, we were busy on the archery fields with _several _other elves, so there was not time for much deep conversation… mostly chit-chat really. You know, Lantél, I think your sister improves with the bow daily."

Lantél seemed to sense that Elrohir was trying to restore peace, and reluctantly submitted to his lead, keeping his mouth shut – he would have words with Hallandakil later. Meanwhile, Alarkelú stepped into the breach and helped Elrohir in his endeavor. "Yes, she has improved a great deal. She never put much effort into archery before, but once she sets her mind to something, she usually masters it." 

Elrohir replied with a grateful smile. Lantél, still angered, but not wishing to be a rude guest, excused himself from their presence, asking before he left where Elladan could be found. Elrohir responded by directing him to the glade where he had last seen his brother. 

Just after Lantél left, Nessúlë appeared, dressed in a fresh gown. Elladan's face brightened visibly. With Lantél wandering off into the woods, there would be an empty chair by the lady at supper. Now he just hoped that those dazzling conversational skills, which Hallandakil had spoken of, would be directed toward him. 

*~*~*the dream/vision*~*~*~*

Elladan continued to hold Oloriel close to him for several minutes. She had been trembling slightly before, but now he felt her slowly relax in his embrace, leaning against him in exhaustion. Cautiously, he reached up with one hand and began to caress her soft hair, hoping that this simple gesture would help to convey some of his feelings – that he was not angry with her, or annoyed; that he would not leave her; that he would try to help her. He closed his eyes as he leaned his cheek against her hair.

Several moments later he was startled by another voice. He had almost forgotten that his grandmother was there.

"Elladan" she began, "Oloriel has been informed of several things that will leave her with much to think on. Some of the knowledge she now carries concerns you, and yet, it is not now time for you to know it. There is only one thing that you need know, and with it comes one charge that I lay upon you. Your destiny is entwined with Oloriel's. Together you will play a role in fighting the darkness that threatens to over-throw us. I cannot yet see what that role will be, but this I know: you must protect her and help her along the way. Be her strength, for one day you will be in need of hers; and, if you speak your heart, she will give it willingly. These are the words that I leave you with – keep them always in mind."

With the end of her words, Galadriel slowly faded away, leaving Elladan and Oloriel alone in each other's arms.

Oloriel stiffened slightly in Elladan's embrace and he gently released her. She was slightly flushed and was trying frantically to find some object other than himself to rest her eyes upon. "I… I am sorry for dragging you into all this – I am sorry that you are forced to bear this burden. Would that it could be taken from you." 

Elladan smiled softly. She was worried about him? Oloriel, an inexperienced and gentle handmaiden, had just been informed that she would somehow be thrust out into a dangerous world to fight against the darkness, and _she _was worried about _him_? He had seen many a battle, and was not inexperienced in the dance with death – she on the other hand was innocent of the ways of war. His heart went out to her; it seemed that she was fated to see many things, which he wished with all his spirit that she would not have to see. And yet, his smile grew slightly at the thought that, despite her obvious turmoil, she was more concerned about him than she was about herself.

In the silence of his thoughts, she whispered again, "I am so sorry for you – that you are charged with this duty…"

Anxious to allay her fears, he reached out and rested his fingers beneath her chin. Turning her face toward him slightly, he murmured, "Do not say such things. Galadriel did not need to command it of me, or even to ask it of me – I would have gladly taken it upon myself to serve you, and not suffered anyone else to do it."

Oloriel looked up at Elladan in wonder. How could he be speaking to her like this? Why was his touch so gentle? Why did the feel of his hand send her heart racing? None of it made any sense. Knitting her brows slightly she whispered the question that was throbbing in her mind: "Why?"

The soft word stabbed at Elladan's heart. 'Why?' Oh how he longed to tell her why. But should he say it? Was she ready to hear it? Would she turn away from him? Reject him? He decided to take it one small step at a time. "Oloriel… you have become very dear to me, and I… I would do anything to protect you."

To his alarm, Oloriel's countenance seemed to darken at his words. She seemed to be struggling with something in her mind, but finally she spoke. "Be very careful, my lord. Do not speak in haste. What am I to you? Please… please do not do this to me again. You must choose."

Elladan just stared at her, trying to understand what she was telling him.

Oloriel sighed. She didn't know the words to explain to him what she felt. Over the past week she had been fighting with so many emotions, and Elladan hadn't made it any easier. He was always so considerate, so kind, and sometimes she would wonder if he could possibly feel more for her than she thought he did. However, this idea was always rejected, when she remembered that he didn't want her – she had heard him say it. 

And yet, sometimes, remembering wasn't enough. Despite what she knew, being in his presence always shook her resolve; it was becoming harder and harder to ignore her deeper feelings. Many times she was still confused – sometimes she didn't understand what she felt – but she did know this: Elladan had to make a choice. When he kissed her, she had experienced true blissful happiness for the first time in many long years, and then it had been ripped away from her. She didn't think she could handle that pain again. Elladan couldn't continue treating her as if she were something more to him if she would never _be_ something more to him – he had to choose.

Elladan continued to search her eyes for an answer to the riddle. What had he done to her? What must he choose? When this search failed, his hand found its way to her cheek, as if touching her could help him discover something hidden deep inside. Surprisingly, it seemed to work. Oloriel, in a blind leap of faith, acting on instinct and impulse alone, somehow opened up her mind to him. It seemed to her the only way to make him understand. He was able to see into her thoughts and memories, to see into her very soul.

He saw the faded images she had of her mother; saw her father clumsily but faithfully teaching her how to braid hair; saw her brother lifting her young self up onto his shoulder to dance around the fire at a festival. She had been happy and carefree, as any young elf-ling should be. 

But then came darker images. He saw her give a farewell blessing to her father, while trying to hold back her tears; he saw her racing off into the forest, her brother calling after her; then, to his surprise, he saw himself, comforting her in the old tree. He smiled softly at that memory, and somehow, though he could no longer see Oloriel as she stood before him, he felt her smile as well.

Next came various images from her daily life: working in the House of Healing; singing; helping Írima wash clothes; talking cheerfully with her brother in the evenings. It was a very placid life that she had led. But then everything came crashing down around her. He saw her weeping over the limp body of her brother; holding him tightly as if she could keep his spirit with her. He saw her dressed for mourning, standing over Karnélas' grave, trying to sing, but failing miserably. Then there were the nightmares. Terrors plagued her dreams, tormenting her where she had no place to hide. He felt her despair and anger and sadness all boiling beneath what had been to everyone else a very calm exterior. So intense was the pain, that he felt as if it might burn him.

But then, into all this darkness and confusion there came a soft light – something that seemed to dispel the shadows. He was startled when he realized that the light was himself. He had been her hope. Swiftly the images came now – snatches of conversations and encounters that they had had since first meeting in the dreamscape, mostly pleasant memories. They came and went quickly, hardly giving him a chance to identify the scene; but then, suddenly, there was a pause. Her mind came to rest on one moment: the night of Merendë Enyalië*, when she had called out to him in her mind. His breath caught slightly as he witnessed himself kissing Oloriel. 

'Why is she showing me this?' he wondered, 'Is this not an unpleasant memory for her?' But no, he could feel it in her – it was not an unpleasant memory at all… but a cherished one. Elladan's mind started racing with the possibilities. 'If she was drawn to me, then why did she grow so cold?'

In moments, he had his answer. He saw her walking beneath the trees, then heard his own voice through her. _// She is only a friend – I won't fall in love with her// _He groaned softly. She had heard that – she had heard his hasty words and thought that he was rejecting her. Now he understood. 

After this memory, the link faded. He found himself still standing before Oloriel, his fingers resting against her cheek. For several moments neither one spoke or moved: Elladan gazing at Oloriel with understanding, and Oloriel gazing back at him in apprehension and confusion. 

Trying to form a shaky smile, she murmured, "I'm not quite sure how I did that."

Elladan returned her smile, and was about to speak when she turned quickly away from him. 

"I am sorry for my boldness, and for my… I know that it would never… I mean, you area prince, and I… well, I am nothing compared to you. I am just a foolish child, and I do not imagine that… I would never be so presumptuous as to… Oh the Valar take me! I have made a mess of things…" She paused to breathe and collect herself before she turned back to him and continued, "Elladan, you must choose. Eru knows I don't know why you care for me, but in some way you do. And yet, this hurts me more than anything else, because it always leaves me wanting what I cannot have. So just tell me the truth now, it will hurt me less. I… I wouldn't blame you if you never want to see me again… I will gladly relieve you of your duty towards me… I know it would be awkward…" Here she trailed off, as a tear slowly slid out between her eyelashes. She turned away from him again, trying to hide her face. The flood of emotions that had suddenly pushed their way into her heart bewildered her and left her unable to cope.

Elladan's heart and mind reeled. She had practically said that she loved him, and now he wanted to laugh and shout and kiss her all at the same time. But instead, he kept himself calm – before he could start celebrating, he had one nearly brokenhearted _elleth _to comfort.

He came up behind her, and stood mere inches away as he began to speak. "Oloriel, I hold to my words: my heart has not changed. I will be the one to stand by you and protect you – no one else. Those words that you heard me speak, when you were walking beneath the mellyrn*, were spoken in haste. I was trying to talk myself out of something that I already knew to be true." Slowly wrapping his arms around her from behind, he leant down and whispered in her ear. "_Lle ná garn ólwen nín. _{You are my own dream maiden} _Im ú-tha gar thanclle anpen. _{I will not share you with anyone}. _Im melan lle… lle ná ól nín _{I love you… you are my dream}.* He gave her a gentle squeeze, then kissed the tip of her ear.

Oloriel trembled slightly. She could not quite believe what she had just heard. Turning around slowly in his arms she raised her eyes to meet his, and was struck with the intensity of his gaze. No one, not even Kallindo, had looked at her like that. She felt like she held the world: like she was finally a princess in one of those fairy tales that were told to her as a child. But her mind still rebelled. She was _not _a princess, in or out of the fairy tales. She was not worthy of Elladan.

She took a step back from him, eyes frantic. "But, Elladan, we have never even met outside of our dreams, how can there be anything between us?"

Elladan chuckled – this girl could be more stubborn than a hobbit begging for his supper. "It's quite simple really." He said, closing the distance between them, "I say I love you, you say you love me, we kiss… we kiss again…" Elladan grinned as Oloriel's cheeks took on a very delightful rose-color.

"But… but it could never be." She exclaimed, taking another step back from him, 'You are a prince!"

"Aye," Elladan agreed, stepping toward her, "And you are my beloved. What of it?"

"But what would you're father say?" she questioned, taking yet another step away from him.

Elladan stepped with her this time, standing so close that she had to tilt her head up slightly to meet his eyes. "He would most likely say that it was about time I took notice of a woman."

Oloriel blushed again. Stepping away from him for the fourth time, she continued to protest, despite the fact that she was quickly running out of arguments. But, in the end, it wouldn't really have mattered how clever her arguments were, because Elladan had stopped listening. He was so entranced by her tantalizing lips, that he found it incredibly difficult to pay attention to what was coming out of them. Finally he decided that the circumstances called for something a little bit drastic. 

"Oloriel," He broke into whatever it was that she was saying, "Do you love me or not?"

The _elleth _stopped her monologue and just looked at him. Her hand raised almost involuntarily, as if she wanted to touch his face, but she drew it back just in time, taking several steps backward as she did so. She turned away and murmured something that sounded vaguely like "I couldn't help it."

"What was that?" Elladan prodded cheerfully.

Oloriel whipped her head around, a slight look of annoyance in her eyes. "Yes. Fine – have it your way. I love you!… I will always love you."

"And do you trust me?" Elladan continued.

Oloriel sighed. "You have asked me that question before, and I hold to my answer. I will always trust you, Elladan, son of Elrond."

Elladan smiled, remembering that night. Taking another step toward her he continued speaking. "What if I told you that there was a ritual – a test that you could undergo that would prove to all that you are worthy of my love? Would you trust me enough to lead you through it? And would you accept the result?"

Oloriel was confused. What ritual could he be speaking of? Maybe this was a custom among the elves of Imladris, but she had never heard of it. And yet, if it would somehow break down the walls that stood between them, she was ready to do it. Nodding hesitantly she replied, "I trust you, Elladan. What must I do?"

"Well, first you must compose your mind," he began, taking another step toward her. "This will take a great deal of concentration." Oloriel stood up a little straighter and took a deep breath.

"Next, you must close your eyes." Oloriel obeyed without question. Elladan smiled warmly, as he came closer to her. One minute she was fighting with him, the next she was as submissive as a lamb. By Eru, he loved this woman. 

"And lastly," he whispered, as he closed the remaining distance between them, "You must simply… hold… still." With that Elladan captured Oloriel's mouth in a gentle, though very determined kiss. 

Oloriel's eyes flew open, and she made a half-hearted attempt to push him away. But Elladan ignored her, circling her waist with his strong arms and pressing her against himself. 

The kiss was not frenzied, nor extremely passionate, but it was insistent. Elladan was in for the long haul. He would simply hold her here until she came to her senses. After several moments Oloriel finally seemed to relax in his arms. He drew away from the kiss to let her draw breath, and she spoke. "Elladan, I… we can't –"

Before she could say anything more, she found her mouth quite preoccupied again. Elladan smiled into the kiss. It seemed as though she needed a little more convincing, and he was more than happy to oblige.

This went on for quite some time. Elladan kissing Oloriel, Oloriel trying to tell him why they couldn't be together, and Elladan kissing her again before she could get the words out. Finally, Oloriel seemed to resign herself to her fate. Leaning into him, she let one hand slip around his neck and the other find its way up into his hair. Elladan seemed to like this situation very much, as a few moments later he let his mouth move slowly across her cheek and down to her neck. By this time, Oloriel had gone from being resigned to her fate, to rather enjoying it. Very soon, however, Elladan pulled back. He smiled fondly at his beloved; she looked altogether tousled, and altogether content. She buried her face in his tunic and whispered, "I think I like this ritual." 

Elladan chuckled softly, then tilted her face up to look at him. "I beg you to forgive my boldness. I should have asked before I kissed you, but… you just weren't listening."

Oloriel smiled up at him. "'Elladan, I love you. It will be a dark day indeed when I cannot forgive you… but," she continued with a wicked gleam in her eye, "if you really want to appease my wrath, you could try kissing me again."

Elladan chuckled, then pecked her on the cheek. He began to laugh out-right when he saw the pout that appeared on Oloriel's face. "No," he answered the silent plea, "That is all you shall get, _meleth nín_ {my love}. I am here with you alone, in a place where no one can find us. If I taste you again, I may not give you up so easily as I have this time."

Oloriel blushed softly. Elladan brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and whispered, "You know, that color is very becoming on you." This comment only served to deepen the hue. "Now, how do I get out of this place?" Elladan questioned, "I think I'm late for supper."

Oloriel's face took on a thoughtful expression, but then it brightened, as though she had found the answer. However, before she could tell him of her discovery, her face clouded again. "Wait, Elladan. Before you leave, I must ask something of you." Elladan's silence indicated that she should continue. "I love you, and I know you love me, but I still have some reservations about what can come of this. However, if you would but speak to your father, and get his blessing for our courtship, then I will have no further objections."

Elladan's face split into a wide grin. "I shall do it as soon as possible. Do not worry, _meleth _{love}, he will be thrilled, I am sure of it."

"Oh, I hope so." Before Elladan could stop her, Oloriel had placed another quick kiss on his mouth. Before he could respond, everything around him began to fade. He found himself lying on his back, staring up into a green canopy of leaves. The next moment, Lantél's head came into view above him.

"You've come back!" he cried. "I've been trying to wake you for the last two minutes. I was just about to sling you over my shoulder and run you to the healers."

Elladan just stared up at him with a crooked smile. "She loves me."

Lantél stared back at him dumbfounded. "What?"

Elladan began to laugh. "She loves me." Springing to his feet he started strolling down the path, whistling to himself as he went. Lantél could do nothing but gape at his retreating form. After a few steps, Elladan turned back and asked, "Do you know where I can find my father?"

It took a moment to register in his mind, but Lantél was finally able to respond. "Supper?"

"Ah yes, supper. I could use some of that myself."

And with that, he was gone. 

***

"Festival to Remember (Festival of Remembrance)" Plural form of 'mallorn' Word-for-word translation: "You are own dream maiden my. I not-will have [a] split/devided-you with-anybody. I love you… you are dream my." Side note: I always see nín ('my') placed after the thing possessed (i.e. ion nín – 'my son'), which is what I have done here. 

Things to Remember:

Oloriel: "dream daughter"

Nessúlë: "young spirit"

Lantél: "falling star"

Alarkelú: "swift stream"

elleth: she-elf

Things to Forget:

Hallandakil: "tall victor"

Results of the "Win a Cute Elf Raffle": 

1st place: **bratprincess** … you get to take home your very own Orophin! (You know, Haldir's cute younger brother). You see, Legolas was too busy fighting orcs, and Haldir's a workaholic and may or may not get killed off, depending on whether you go movie or book canon. Orophin on the other hand has a steady job on the border patrol, knows when to take a break, and is a really good cook. Congratulations!!!

2nd place: **Lirima Tindomiel** … you get a free kiss from Elladan! I know you wanted the free elf, but at least you got something. Don't worry, I'll be raffling off Rumil in a few more chapter. ^_~ Word of warning… don't let Oloriel see you kissin' her man!… hey, it's all for a good cause…

3rd place: **Elisabeth Celebros **… yay! You actually got what you wanted, an elven cloak. May it guard you from unfriendly eyes and look stylin' when you go to the opening of RotK. = )

Boxes of e-cookies go out to… Lady Eleclya, bratprincess, Lirima Tindomiel, icy 878, namarie2legolas, Crimson Starlight, Concetta, TigerLily713, and Anilmathiel… they're variety packs – snickerdoodles, chocolate chip cookies, and peanut butter cookie… enjoy = ) 

** I am really, really tired – the words on the screen are starting to run away screaming… I may up-date this chapter in a couple days with responses to all of your particular reviews. Some of you had questions that I would love to answer, but I just can't do it right now. I love hearing from you all – keep those reviews coming!**

*** It's the "Three Elven Rings of Power Charity Raffle" (all reviews go to profit the 'Make Iluvien's Day' Fund). Just submit a review and get your chance to wield one of the rings of power! As always, participants who review within in 24 hrs. of posting will receive a complimentary box of my homemade e-cookies. Good luck everyone!***

~Iluvien~ 


	18. The Plots Thicken

Things you need to know about this story...

1.) Elven dreams are very realistic

2.) Elves shouldn't normally meet *real* people along the Olórë Mallë (Path of Dreams)... but something happens in this story that is not normal

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

'*' signals a footnote

****

A/N: Please forgive me for taking so long to update. I have started my first year of college and things are pretty crazy. I will try to be more diligent about writing this story, but if it comes down to it, the homework will have to take precedence… oh the injustice of life…

_________________________

Chapter 18.) The Plots Thicken

***

_"I am the tender voice calling… Whispering between the beatings of the heart,"_

George William Russell 

***

Time: five days after the last chapter. 

Elladan stifled a groan. He had been sitting in the same dreadfully boring meeting, listening to the monotonous drone of Lord Beledhel's voice for almost an hour now. It was no use: he could not keep his mind focused on what was being said. After all, he had nothing to contribute to the debate; he was there only for the sake of protocol. 

His thoughts began to drift toward a certain elf-maiden of Lorien. Just thinking about her brought a smile to his face. Elladan was still in the wonderfully dizzy state of newfound love, and hoped desperately that he would never have to recover. 

He had asked his father five days ago for approval to court Oloriel. The _elleth _{she-elf} had been adamant on this point, believing that Elrond would somehow disapprove of her low-birth. Of course, Elladan knew that his father would not care who her parents were, but he asked for his blessing none-the-less. Elrond had been cautious in his answer, but not discouraging. Having never met the girl he simply wanted to know more about her. With this goal in mind, Elrond had sent a message to the Lady Galadriel, his mother-in-law, to glean more information concerning the maiden who might one day be his daughter-in-law. The answer was expected to arrive any day now.

Elladan fidgeted with the hem of his robes in excitement. He knew that a carrier pigeon had flown in from the south that morning. It had to have come from LothLorien. Of course, the pigeon flew in just as he was on his way to the council that morning, and there was no way that he could have found out what message it brought without being late for the meeting. Elladan tried to muffle a frustrated growl as he thought of his misfortune. The elf lord sitting next to him raised a questioning eyebrow, but did not comment. 

Elladan slumped deeper into his chair, not caring any more about good Elven posture. He did not think he could take much more of this insipid gathering. But, just when he felt that he had reached his limit, he was rescued from utter monotony by the soft presence of Oloriel's mind seeping gently into his thoughts.

He smiled softly. This touching of minds had been growing more frequent, and no longer did the sensation startle him.

__

//Mae aur, melamin {good morning, my love}_//, _he reached out to her with his mind, trying hard to hide his amusement as he felt her consternation.

__

//I had thought to sneak up on you, but I suppose I'll never be able to that. How did you know I was here?//

His mental laughter wafted through her mind as he replied _//Your presence is such a refreshing contrast against my own that it's rather hard to miss…like a cool sea breeze.//_

Oloriel's voice sounded rather awed as she questioned him further. _//Have you actually seen the sea?//_

//Yes… When I said good-bye to my mother.//

Oloriel's mind shrank back from him a little, as if the words had struck her. _//Oh, I am sorry Elladan. I did not mean to bring up unpleasant memories.//_

//No, it's alright. I know that I shall see her again someday, when I travel to Valinor… I just wish that my sister could see her again as well.//

There was silence for a moment. Elladan had spoken much of his sister, and Oloriel knew how much he cared for her. She also knew of Arwen's love of a mortal, which would keep her from answering the call of the sea. _//I'm sure she does also. But… but you know that Arwen would fade, were she to be taken away from her love.//_

//Aye, I know it well. Now that I have tasted love for myself I know what drives my sister. I do not think that I would last very long either, were I to be kept from you.//

Elladan's eyes took on a merry glow as he felt a ripple of shy modesty pulse out from Oloriel. She was not at all accustomed to being flattered, and still blushed delightfully at his small shows of affection. He might not be able to see her, but he could still imagine how she must look, head bent down in dismay at the warmth was blooming on her cheek.

__

//Nor I you…//, she whispered hesitantly. Beyond saying that she loved him, Oloriel was still not quite at home with a lover's vernacular. It had been many long years since she had opened up her heart and mind so fully to another individual, and it took some getting used to. But she did try to speak her heart, and this time the effort was amply rewarded by the surge of contentment that swelled from her beloved and engulfed her in its warm embrace.

//_It's settled then… we'll just have to stick together.//_

Oloriel could feel him smiling as he said it and could not help smiling merrily herself. _//Not that we have much choice// _she quipped, _//trapped in each other's minds as we are.//_

Elladan chuckled. _//Yes. Isn't that convenient?//_

Elladan stopped chuckling abruptly as he momentarily came back to reality, noticing that all eyes were now trained on him, and that Lord Beledhel had stopped talking. Casting a furtive glance around the council room, he sat up straight in his chair and cleared his throat softly. "Ahem… um, pardon me, Lord Beledhel… ah, please continue." 

Once Elladan had convinced everyone in the council that he was indeed paying attention to the oration, he went right back to conversing with his love. Oloriel teased him merrily about letting his mind wander while he should be attending to important business, but in truth was thrilled to get him back. They had never before been able to communicate for so long while awake, but neither one was about to complain – they would take whatever they could get.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Írima rolled her eyes slightly as she watched Oloriel's retreating form. The two of them had gone out earlier that morning to gather apples from outside the city gate and were now returning. Oloriel walked ahead with a brimming basket on her arm and a light spring in her step. This situation itself would not have caused Írima a moment's thought, but add to it the fact that Oloriel had been humming nameless tunes all morning and walking around with a ridiculous grin on her face and you can see why Írima was slightly exasperated. Something was up, but try as she may Írima could not get two words of sense from the she-elf to illuminate the situation. 

Írima's confusion grew as the light sound of bubbling laughter came to her from up ahead on the path. Her brows furrowed slightly. Did she just hear Oloriel giggle? This day was getting stranger by the moment…

~~~

Oloriel smiled brightly as she wended down the forest path, a basket of apples on her arm. She could feel Írima's consternation, but had no intention of easing her friend's curiosity - keeping this delicious secret to herself was proving to be far too enjoyable for that. But also, how could she tell Írima that the reason she was so distracted was because she was carrying on a conversation with an elf who wasn't there; that, indeed, she had been talking with him for over an hour already? Írima would think that she had gone mad!

__

//I think that I am worrying Írima to distraction.// Oloriel told Elladan cheekily _//She can't stand a mystery, and with the way that I have been acting all morning she knows that something is up.//_

//Írima?// Elladan felt like he should know who that was._ //Ah yes, that is your friend who has the child, correct? Where else have I heard that name?…// _

//Yes. Írima is my good friend. But I can't imagine where else you could have heard her name; I don't think that she has done anything of renown to mark a place in one of your father's lore books.//

//But I know I've heard it somewhere else… Oh, I remember! Does your friend happen to have any kin living in Mithlond* – perhaps a sister?// Elladan inquired.

Oloriel thought for a moment and then grinned wickedly. She would confound Írima further this day. Turning around on the path she called back to her friend. "Írima, does your sister or any other of your kin dwell in the north, at Mithlond?"

Írima looked at Oloriel as if she had sprouted a second head. 'Why on earth would she want to know that?' she wondered. Finally she decided that she was tired of trying to discern her friend's mood and simply answered the question with a sigh. "Yes, dear heart, I have family in Mithlond; most notably, my eldest sister, Melwakú and her family. Though last I heard they were feeling the call of the sea, and may have departed by now."

Oloriel smiled her thanks then silently replied to Elladan. _//Last she heard, her sister Melwakú was still dwelling in Mithlond with her own family. But she may have recently sailed to Valinor.//_

Elladan was delighted at this coincidence. He had heard Nessúlë mention the name of her aunt several times, but had never made the connection. _//And would it surprise you to know that Melwakú's children are now residing in Imladris, and that they hope to travel to LorhLorien soon?//_

Oloriel almost choked on the apple she was eating. _//Really? I'm sure that Írima will be pleased!//_

//Well then, by all means tell her. I must go now – my father has summoned me. I think that it is about a message he received from LothLorien this morning. Hopefully it will hold good news for us.//

Oloriel smiled excitedly. Elladan's continued insistence had put her to ease concerning his father's approval of her, but nevertheless, a final word on the matter would set her a good deal more at ease.

__

//Go to him then// she whispered _//I will speak with you tonight.//_

With those words their link faded and Oloriel was left with an annoyed Írima and a basket full of apples.

"I know something you don't know," she called back to her friend.

'That does not surprise me," Írima shot back. "You are full of secrets this morning."

"Aye, but this secret concerns you… Your sister's children will be in LothLorien before too many months have passed. If they are anywhere near as delightful as you I shall look forward to meeting them." Oloriel grinned at Írima, whose face wore an utterly bewildered expression, and began laughing heartily. 'I am sorry for teasing you so. One day I will tell you everything you want to know."

With that, Oloriel twirled off down the path, taking a childlike joy in the feel of the grass beneath her feet and the warmth of the sun on her face.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"The Valar help me! I am this close to committing a third kinslaying*!" Lantél burst into Alarkelú's room, his thumb and forefinger pressed together to show just how close he really was to perpetrating homicide.

Alarkelú and Elrohir looked up simultaneously from a game of chess and threw him questioning glances. When no clarification was forthcoming, Elrohir turned back to the chess bored and surveyed the results of his latest 'brilliant' strategy. Shrugging his shoulders he looked up at Lantél.

"I may just help you with that," Elrohir replied nonchalantly. "I thought myself to be fairly good at chess until Alarkelú came along. If he defeats me one more time I may be forced to take some desperate measures."

Alarkelú just smiled complacently then addressed Lantél as well. "Who has wronged your honor this time, young one? You cannot take every slight so seriously."

Lantél bristled. "I am not so foolish as to take offense at every harmless slur against my own character. But I was not the one being dishonored."

"Who then?" inquired Elrohir.

"My sister."

Elrohir sat up straighter. Someone would dare to insult Nessúlë? "Who has done this?" he demanded, standing up and almost knocking over his chair.

Lantél's eyes narrowed as he spat out the answer. "Hallandakil."

"Surely Hallandakil would not be so foolish as to stain your sister's honor?" Alarkelú questioned calmly.

Lantél sighed. "You are correct, he has not stained her honor – at least not in so many words. It is his manner that offends. He speaks of her with a degree of familiarity and suggestion that is entirely repulsive."

'What has he done?" demanded Elrohir. He could not yet admit that he was falling in love with the girl, but neither could he deny that he cared for her. The thought of Hallandakil taking any liberties of manner where Nessúlë was concerned made his blood run hot.

"I overheard him boasting to two other elves in the stable this afternoon that, if he had the mind to do it, he could have Nessúlë falling at his feet by the end of the week. But then he said that he wouldn't take her anyway because she was as cold and wild as the sea that she was named after*. He then went on to say that, though he could _break her in_ if he so wished, he would rather have his mares come to him willingly." Lantél grimaced as he spoke the words, as if they themselves held an unpleasant flavor. "I cannot believe his insolence," he stormed, "he compared my sister to a mare! Doubtless he would wish to saddle her in the fashion of the second-born* and lead her around with a sharp bit in her mouth as well. _Amin feuya ten'ro _{He disgusts me}!"

Elrohir's visage had darkened visibly. "I always knew Hallandakil was a fool when it came to women, but this is intolerable. What did you do?"

Lantél sighed heavily. "Nothing. What could I do? I am a guest in your father's house. I cannot go around mauling his citizens, no matter what the offense."

Alarkelú spoke up, his eyes glinting dangerously. "It is true that you should not act rashly, but that does not mean that Hallandakil's behavior should go unpunished. He may not have said anything specifically against your sister's honor, but he has not acted like a gentleman."

"I agree," Elrohir cast in his lot. "We have to do something."

"I am more than willing to make him pay." Lantél admitted. "Shall we go to your father first and see what recourse we have?"

Elrohir grinned satisfactorily. "No, that won't be necessary. I can speak for my father." 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I think that the pupil may one day out-strip the teacher," Kallindo cried jovially as Oloriel went to retrieve her arrows. The _elleth _smiled cheerfully under the praise. The bow was, without doubt, her preferred weapon. She enjoyed wielding her long knives, but her skill with them would never equal her good aim.

Kallindo let his eyes stray over Oloriel's form while her back was turned. Her stance and figure had changed over the past few months, taking on a warriors poise and alertness, enhancing the litheness of her form. When sufficiently provoked she could turn from a playful kitten into a sleek cat waiting to pounce. Kallindo found that he liked the change. Oloriel had always had an independent streak in her nature, but it had only ever been a hidden possibility. Now it was beginning to become a reality; bearing fruit in the deadly aim of her arrows and the graceful arc of her blade. 

Their training sessions together had been going on smoothly and comfortably for the past two weeks, and Kallindo was gaining more and more confidence in his dealings with her. When she had turned from him the first time he tried to kiss her, he thought that his chance with her was over, but her behavior since then had restored his hope. She had never shunned him, as he expected her to, and over the past couple of weeks she had been positively glowing with happiness. He could not be absolutely sure of what caused this joy in her, but he decided that it couldn't be a bad sign. All in all, he felt that his prospects were rather good. Having decided this several days ago, he had begun to formulate a plot in his mind. He had to approach Oloriel again, tell her of his love; but he had to do it right this time. There was no room for error.

Kallindo smiled as he anticipated putting his plan into action. Oloriel had gathered her arrows and was coming back to where he stood. 

"Is that all for today?" she inquired. "The sun has dipped below the mountain peaks and my stomach is telling me that it is time for supper."

Kallindo nodded agreeably. "Yes, that will be all for today. But before you go I would like to ask you something."

Oloriel turned back to him with a questioning glance, and Kallindo continued. "You have improved much of late. I was wondering if you would like to try your hand at patrol duty. You would not be a full member of the guard and would have to be under my supervision, but it might give you some valuable experience. What do you say?"

Oloriel's face brightened. She enjoyed new experiences, and this was certainly something she had never tried. "I would love to, Kallindo. I am flattered that you think me ready for such a venture."

"It is only what you deserve," Kallindo replied warmly. "Um… I am off tomorrow night. Would you like to, uh… why don't I take you out to the northern border tomorrow evening and show you around a bit? It will be useful to know the area before you take up a watch."

Oloriel thought about it for a moment, but could not think of a reason why she could not accept his offer. "Thank you Kallindo, that would be lovely. When will we have to leave?"

"We shall leave two hours after the mid-day meal. If we ride swiftly we shall be able to reach the northern border while there is still light to see by."

"Very well; I shall be ready. Until then." Oloriel picked up the rest of her gear and wandered off toward her flet.

Kallindo watched her go with satisfaction. Things were running exactly according to plan. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elrohir, Lanél, and Alarkelú exchanged sly grins. 

"It's settled then – we have a plan." Alarkelú said with a crafty glint in his eye.

Lantél grinned. 'It's perfect. After this, Hallandakil will think twice before he dares to even speak my sister's name." 

"Aye," Elrohir concurred. "He won't know what hit him."

***

1. The Silmarillion documents two 'kin-slayings', where and elves took up arms against other elves. 

2. The Grey Havens.

3. Nessúlë's second name is Ëarwen: 'sea maiden'

4. 'Second-born' refers to the race of men. Unlike men, elves do not need a saddle and bridle to ride a horse.

Things to Know:

Oloriel: 'dream daughter'

elleth: 'she-elf' 

Írima: 'lovely, desriable'

Lantél: 'shooting star'

Alarkelú: 'swift stream'

Nessúlë Ëarwen: 'young spirit/sea maiden'

Hallandakil: 'tall victor'

****

Big Question: Would you guys prefer shorter chapters that come more frequently or longer chapters that come less frequently?

***Sorry guys, no prize-incentives this time. But next chapter there will be another 'Win a Cute Elf Raffle'. Stay tuned… and review!!!***


	19. Best Laid Plans

Disclaimer: see previous chapters

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

'*' signals a footnote

****

A/N: some people wanted long chapters, come people wanted short ones… I guess I'll do whatever comes naturally then. Sorry this one took so long. *slaps self on hand*

____________________________

Chapter 19: Best Laid Plans…

***

__

"He raves, or through some moody passage creeps 

Plotting new mischief – out again he leaps" 

- William Wordsworth

***

Recap: Kallindo is planning to tell Oloriel of his love and Elrohir is helping to plot revenge on Hallandakil for his impudent remarks about Nessúlë.

"Hold!" Lantél whispered urgently. Elrohir and Alarkelú froze in position as an unconscious Hallandakil stirred slightly. The three were holding the sleeping elf in a sheet as they attempted to transport him beyond the public gardens without waking him up. 

It was early morning, the watery sun just making its presence known. The three schemers did not have much time to lose before the risk of meeting other elves along the paths became too great. And yet, they did not want to be too hasty, for fear of awakening their quarry before the time was right. 

When Hallandakil settled back into his sleep, everyone breathed a sigh of relief and Elrohir signaled that they should start moving forward again.

After several minutes, the trio of elves finally made it to their chosen destination. Carefully they lowered Hallandakil to the ground and maneuvered him off of the sheet. All was in readiness now. Each elf grinned with suppressed glee – this revenge would be very sweet indeed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan smiled politely at the maidens that were streaming out along the garden paths. The _elleths _were gathering, as they had every year for countless generations, to go out into the woods and glean some of the new flowers that had burst forth mid the slightly frosted air of winter. It was a ritual of sorts. They would come home soon after lunch with armloads of snowdrops, hellebore, narcissus, holly, and others to form into bouquets, potpourri, and perfumes. For a few days the halls and rooms of the elven dwellings would be as alive as a garden.

Meanwhile, while the women were away, every elf who had a lady, or who desired one, would be preparing a small token of his affection. There would be a dance that evening, and if an elf was so fortunate as to obtain the favor of his chosen lady, he would bestow his trinket on her, and she would in turn give him a newly plucked flower from her hair. For the rest of the evening, the couple would be designated as each other's.

Many of the pairings would be impetuous and harmless; Elladan himself had chosen several maidens before in friendship and good spirit. But this year would be different. There was only one maiden on his mind, and sadly, she was not among the many _elleths _that were passing him in the garden.

Elladan sighed softly as he thought of her then shook his head in amusement. He had been completely vanquished by a small, shy, stubborn maiden… and he couldn't be happier about it. He had fallen prey to the age-old sickness; indeed, the one sickness that Elves were not immune to: love. It filled him with a great comfort to think on this. Not only did he feel incredibly wanted and needed, but he also felt a certain camaraderie with those who were taken by the same spell. Suddenly the world did not seem quite so confusing, people not nearly so threatening. Countless others had loved before him, and countless others would do so after him – and he would understand exactly how they felt. It was as if love had brought the world back into focus, and he discovered – for the first time in a long while – that it was a very beautiful place.

Elladan laughed softly. He was turning into a poet. With a last glance around the gardens, he stepped indoors and made his way toward his study, where no doubt there would be several tasks waiting for him. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oloriel laughed recklessly for the third time that morning. The bubbling energy inside her could not get out any other way. Ignoring her breakfast, the _elleth _sprang up from her chair and walked back out onto her balcony. The light of the morning sun was dazzling as it fell through the rustling leaves and swaying branches above her, dappling the ground in splashes of molten gold. Oloriel grinned brightly at the lovely sight; it's beauty seeming to harmonize with the melody in her spirit. 

Elladan had brought very good news with him the night before.

A giddy pulse wound its way up her spine as she thought of the way that Elladan had held her in his arms, leaning into her slightly to whisper the fair tidings into her delicate ear. He had only kissed her once, lightly, after that, but the warmth and security of his arms was enough to make her feel cherished. 

An overwhelming sense of awe washed over Oloriel then, as she realized how much her life had changed in such a few short months. Light and hope and taken deep root in her heart, where none had dwelt before. The loneliness of centuries had melted away so completely that she sometimes wondered whether they had ever been.

Of course, this feeling would not last for long. She would remember her brother and miss him terribly and wish that he were with her – wish that he had always been with her. But at least now this sadness was tempered with the thought that, had he been alive, Karnélas would have liked Elladan immensely. This thought always brought a smile to her face.

Oloriel sighed softly as she turned away from the balcony railing. She had been in a dreamy state all morning but now it was time to awaken and get on with the day. She would be heading out with Kallindo soon after lunch, and wanted to make sure that she was finished with all her tasks here before she left. With this thought in mind, Oloriel snatched a light cloak from her closet and descended from her flet.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hallandakil awoke to a strangely cold sensation. Had his blankets slipped off of him in the night? With eyes still closed, he shifted his body to the right and reached his arm out to see if he could locate the missing covers. His muscled tensed when his hand came in contact with… grass? Hallandakil sat up quickly. He found him self sitting in the middle of a clearing filled with winter flowers. As he took in his surroundings a quivering breeze blew across the small meadow, sending a shiver down his spine. His muscles tensed again. Looking down, Hallandakil finally realized why he had felt so cold: he had absolutely no clothes on. His mind seemed to stop functioning at that point. He could not make sense of all this: was it a dream? And if not, who had done this, and how was he to get back to his room? While still trying to make sense of the situation, his mind was ripped out of its lethargy by a truly dreadful sound… female laughter.

Horror shook the foundations of his reason as he grasped what was about to take place. Any moment now a group of she-elves would come bursting through the tree-line in search of winter-flowers, the very flowers that he was sitting in, the very ones that were at present not doing a very good job of covering his unclothed form. 

As his shock and embarrassment reached its height, a pink bundle with a note attached to it came hurling at him from the trees to his left, accompanied by a masculine chuckle. Snatching it up, Hallandakil read these words: _Since you seem to have so little respect for the fairer sex, I thought you might enjoy a little lesson in perspectives. – I'm sure that the 'mares' will find this absolutely fetching…I hope it fits… P.S. If you value your manhood, stay away from my sister._

With a blanched face and growing trepidation, Hallandakil unrolled the bundle of cloth. To his utter humiliation he found before him a pink, flowing, lacy gown. He pulled his arm back with every intention of throwing it back, when another bout of feminine laughter caught his ear. His hand dropped lifelessly to his side. There was nothing else he could do; the maidens were blocking his only path of escape, and it was unthinkable that they should see him in such an exposed state. With a groan of frustration he brought the dress up for a closer examination. Just how did one put this thing on anyway?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan looked up from his desk as a flash of bright pink caught his eye. Looking up toward his expansive windows, he was struck dumb by the sight that confronted him. Was that Hallandakil… in a dress? At first Elladan was simply amazed at what he saw, but then a slight smirk crept in at the corners of his mouth. He had never been very fond of Hallandakil, and the sight of him storming along the path, eyes blazing and skirts swirling was in his mind priceless.

With a soft chuckle, Elladan turned from the window and tried to focus his mind back on the task at hand. He had almost achieved this goal when his train of thought was interrupted again by the sound of unrestrained laughter. 

Looking back up toward the windows, Elladan saw three very jubilant elves walking by. Elrohir and Lantél were leaning on each other to keep from falling over with their laughter and Alarkelú, in a rare display of unbounded enthusiasm, was making grand gesticulations and talking and chuckling and patting Elrohir on the back. The only words that Elladan could make out for sure were things like "marvelous… a better plan than mine… nice of her to lend the dress… and pink!" It was enough. Elladan's grin widened as he realized the implications. Apparently his brother was not yet mature enough to leave off mischief making. He shook his head in amusement. Perhaps in another few millennia or so Elrohir would finally grow out of that tendency… but then again, maybe not.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oloriel laughed with sheer delight as the wind whipped past her face, throwing her hair into a swirling dance. It had been quite some time since she had been on a horse and she was enjoying every minute of it. At first she had been rather shaky, but she quickly grew re-accustomed to the rhythm of the gaits, becoming more comfortable with each passing moment

A flash of movement on her right told her that Kallindo had come up beside her. She ignored him as she reveled in the feel of the wind and the horse beneath her. She was abruptly shaken from her reverie, however, when Kallindo called out to her horse in Elvish, urging him into a faster gait. Oloriel instinctively clutched at the horse's mane with wide eyes as the speed increased. She might have remained in this shocked, tentative state had not the sound of Kallindo's laughter floated to her on the wind from up ahead. Apparently he wanted to race. With narrowed eyes, Oloriel leaned in over her horse's neck, whispering her own words of encouragement to him. Looking back on the event, it might have been a foolish thing to do, but it was done none the less. Oloriel found herself blazing through the forest with little or no control over where she was going. Thankfully, her horse seemed to be following the one ahead of it and Oloriel could devote all of her attention to just staying on the horse.

After several minutes, the horse began slowly of its own accord, finally arriving in a glade where Kallindo was waiting. 

"Well done, Aiwë," he called to her cheerfully, "I'd say that what you lack in skill is certainly made up for in fearlessness. But, if you don't my, try not to kill yourself next time."

Oloriel chuckled. "My steed would not have let me come to any harm. All I had to do was stay on his back."

Kallindo just smiled, then changed the subject entirely. "In case you were wondering, we have arrived at our destination."

"Have we already?" Oloriel questioned.

"We have been riding for several hours, Aiwë. Did you not notice? A few more minutes and you would have been riding underneath the watchful eyes of the border guard, right out into the northern plains of the Anduin."

Oloriel smiled. "I was a little preoccupied I suppose. Where shall we start our tour then?"

Bowing slightly with mock formality, Kallindo hold out his arm and replied. "If the lady will accept my humble company, I will be glad to show her all the wonders of the northern wood… starting with the guard flets."

"Well, since I am completely lost out here, anyway," Oloriel began cheerfully, "I suppose that I have no choice but to humbly accept your humble company." 

Kallindo inclined his head in agreement, and watched with delight as Oloriel took his proffered arm. At that moment, he wanted nothing better than to lean down and kiss her softly, but he knew that, in such a precarious situation, patience was always a virtue.

~~~

Oloriel sighed with contentment. Her personal tour had just ended, as the stars were beginning to make their appearance in the night sky. Kallindo had been a wonderful guide, showing her all there was to see and telling her all there was to know about the northeastern quadrant of LothLorien. To add to the positive experience, Oloriel had felt at perfect ease with her companion throughout the entire afternoon, and was now more convinced than ever that their friendship was back to its normal, comfortable parameters. Little did she know of the storm that was brewing on the horizon.

As she was musing, Kallindo descended from the tree where he had been aloft. He jumped down from a few feet up on the ladder and came over to her with an enthusiastic stride.

"You must be hungry, Aiwë. Shall we take a bite to eat before we return to Caras Galadhon?"

"That sounds lovely, Kallindo. I didn't really think about packing any food; I suppose that wasn't very resourceful of me. Do you have enough for the both of us?"

Kallindo favored her with a wide grin, but did not speak. Instead he motioned to the ladder that he had just descended. 

Taking this to mean that there was food up in the flet, Oloriel followed his tacit instructions quite willingly.

She was not quite prepared for the sight that met her. Laid out beneath several hanging, silver lamps was a perfect picnic for two. There was a surprising array of food, and somehow Kallindo had even managed to procure several flowers to set in the middle of the spread. Oloriel took in a sharp breath, not knowing quite how she should react. In the end, no reaction was needed, as Kallindo came up deftly behind her and gentle placed his hand against the small of her back, leading her to where the food was laid out.

Finally, Oloriel regained her power of speech. "Kallindo… what is this?" 

"I thought that, since this was the first step on your way to taking up a patrol with me, a celebration was in order."

Oloriel bit her lip nervously. The explanation seemed innocent enough, but for some reason warnings were eating away at the edge of her consciousness. "This really wasn't necessary, Kallindo," she chided. "How did you smuggle all of this out here, anyway? I'm sure it wasn't worth the effort."

Kallindo took her hand softly, giving it a gentle squeeze. "For you, the effort was very worthwhile."

Oloriel's eyes widened slightly. The warnings in her mind were beginning to tug more urgently now. Not wanting to appear rude, but not wanting to respond, Oloriel quickly extracted her hand from Kallindo's hold, and sat down in front of the food. Kallindo joined her and they began eating in silence.

The conversation eventually revived, taking very common, safe routes, but Oloriel was still on guard. Something was up; she knew it.

When the meal had ended, Oloriel watched as Kallindo packed away the remains. She had tried to help him, but he had brushed her off, telling her to go and enjoy the view. Having nothing else to do, Oloriel followed his advice. The stars were brilliant that night as she sat on the edge of the flet, looking out across the gently lit plains. 

The influence of the starlight had done a good deal to calm Oloriel's nerves, but the peace was broken when Kallindo sat down next to her… a little too close for comfort. 

"Thank you for indulging me, Aiwë," he began softly, "I hope that you enjoyed the meal."

"Yes, it was very good, thank you. You brought some of my favorite dishes."

Kallindo cleared his throat softly then, rubbing his hands along his thighs in a nervous gesture. "I was not speaking only of the food… what did you think of the company?"

Oloriel stiffened slightly. Not knowing how to safely reply to that question she remained silent. 

"Aiwë?" Kallindo whispered softly as he leant slightly toward her.

Oloriel still did not answer.

"Please… say something," he begged, lightly brushing her cheek with his fingers.

Oloriel shrank back from the contact. She could easily read the pain that darted through his eyes as she did so.

"Aiwë, why do you always retreat from me? Am I that repulsive?"

Sucking a sharp breath Oloriel turned away from his quickly, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Oh Kallindo, it's not that, it's just… I… I can't…"

"Why not," he interjected vehemently. "I know that you have always been frightened of love… don't look at me like that, Aiwë, you and I both know it's true. But a life without love is empty; it's not worth living. Just give me a chance. I love you," he whispered earnestly, tilting her head towards him with his hand, "and I will do anything… I promise I'll do anything I can to make you happy." Without warning he leant down a laid a quick light kiss on her mouth.

Oloriel couldn't think clearly enough to react before the kiss was over. She just sat there staring at Kallindo with wide, unbelieving eyes, wondering why life was so cruel. 

Unfortunately, Kallindo took her apparently calm state as acceptance. With a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lip, he dipped down for another kiss. It was at this moment that Oloriel finally woke up. Just before his lips touched hers she turned her head sharply away, Kallindo's mouth just barely grazing the edge of hers.

"No!" She managed to blurt out. Then, softening a little, she pushed him back gently and continued. "No… you can't. You can't love me that way, Kallindo. I am not the one for you."

Kallindo eyes fell to the ground, his breath coming in shallow starts. After some time he finally choked out, "How can you say that? I love you…"

Oloriel shook her head slowly. "I cannot return that love. I am not the one who will complete you. Please Kallindo, do not ask it of me."

"_Im ú-tha lasto an maerist… Im thanglle _{I cannot listen to wisdom*… I need you}."

Tears sprung into Oloriel's then. "_Im hiraetha… lle ú-tha garnín _{I am sorry… you cannot have me}." In anguish and frustration, Oloriel leapt up from where she was sitting and climbed quickly down to the forest floor. Calling to her horse, she mounted him and urged him into a gallop, never looking back. The forest was quite dark, and the tears streaming down her face effectively blinded her. It was a mercy that she made it home at all, let alone safely.

Kallindo stood dazedly at the base of the tree, watching her ride off into the night. He was alone, with only an aching heart and an empty picnic basket to comfort him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Nessúlë greeted her brother with an affectionate kiss on the cheek. "Have you heard about our excitement this morning while we were out gathering flowers, brother?"

Lantél grinned broadly. "It didn't have anything to do with a certain arrogant elf in a lovely pink dress, now did it?"

Nessúlë laughed. "Well yes, I suppose that this elf might fit with your description. He's certainly not a very humble soul, though I doubt that he will raise his head very high tonight. But I must say, that dress was certainly most… oh, shall we say, becoming?"

At this, Elrohir and Alarkelú, who were sitting at a nearby table playing chess, broke out laughing. Lantél turned to them with sparkling eyes. "Yes… that is one way of looking at it, I suppose," he chuckled.

Nessúlë looked shrewdly between the three gleeful elves and furrowed her brow slightly. "The three of you didn't by any chance have something to do with that lovely pink dress, now did you?"

Elrohir sobered up immediately. "Lady Nessúlë, I'm surprised that you would believe us capable of such a thing."

Somehow, Alarkelú's poorly restrained laughter didn't help to convince her of their innocence.

***

I couldn't find an actual Sindarin word for 'wisdom', so I use 'good knowledge' (maer ist) as a substitute. 

New Things to Know:

I can't think of a darn thing that you shouldn't know already. If you want name translations, see previous chapters.

***It's the "Win a Random Cute Elf Raffle"!!!! Review now and get a chance to win your very own elf. Other prizes include a coil of elven rope (Sam has always found that very useful), a bottle of miruvor (elven cordial), and boxes of e-cookies! Don't miss out!!!***

~Iluvien~ 


	20. Why Do You Love Me?

Disclaimer: don't steal my stuff, I won't steal your stuff…

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

'*' signals a footnote

**A/N: **Well guys, this was supposed to be a quick short chapter, but since it was taking a long time to write anyway, I decided I might as well make it a long chapter to off-set the wait. Enjoy…

____________________

Chapter 20.) Why Do You Love Me?

***

_You will come one day in a waver of love, _

_Tender as dew, impetuous as rain,_

- Carl Sandburg

***

Recap: Elladan and Oloriel have received a blessing from Elrond for their courtship. Kallindo, unaware of her current attachment has declared his love to Oloriel, but she has rejected it. This chapter occurs the same night as the last chapter.

Elladan walked slowly down dimly lit hallways toward his private chambers. It was already well into the night, the festivities of that evening keeping many an elf awake beneath the stars. Some of the elves were still celebrating, but Elladan was tired, and he wanted to see Oloriel. On the way to his room, he strolled passed his father's study and noticed that a light was still burning. He paused for a moment, thinking to go in, but then decided against it. His feet continued their journey toward his bed but did not get very far; he had only taken a few steps when his father's head appeared from behind the heavy oak door of his study.

"Elladan," he called gently, "I thought that was you. Will you come here a moment?" 

Elladan obligingly retraced his steps, and followed his father into the warm, fire-lit room. The two of them sat down before the crackling flames. Silence reigned for several moments. Elrond seemed rather thoughtful, as though he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure quite how to word it. 

Finally he spoke. "Do you see Oloriel every night?"

Elladan raised his eyebrow. So that was the topic of this conversation. "Yes, I generally do. Why?"

Elrond chose not to answer his question just yet. "And when you meet it is simply the two of you?

"Aye. I have not dreamt of other events or people since I met her."

"How exactly do these meetings take place?" Elrond continued his inquiry

"I go to sleep, it is simply a dreamscape, and when she has fallen asleep she is there with me."

The fire continued to leap about as Elrond let out a contemplative sigh. "This may sound rather prosaic, _ion nín_ {my son}, but I have called you in here to talk about matters of propriety. Lady Galadriel has informed me that Oloriel has no near kin in Middle Earth – she has no one to protect her or her honor, and you must be very careful of that. This courtship that you desire is certainly unorthodox. Normally it would be thought rather shocking to spend so much time alone in each other's presence, unattended; how do propose to handle this situation."

Elladan was rather dumb-founded by this question. Of a truth, he had never really thought about it before. "I… well, it's only a dream; I did not think that much harm could be done in that way."

"But it is obviously more than a dream, _ion nín._ The two of you have experienced things unheard of. You said once that she was even able to use her healing skills on you during one of these 'dreams'. I think it is safe to say that the same rules do not apply. The two of you already have a very… intimate bond. There have been some spouses who shared thoughts or dreams together, but that has only occurred after being joined in marriage for some time. With such a bond it will be tempting for you to feel as if she already belongs to you; but she does not belong to you, Elladan, and you must be careful in your treatment of her." 

Elladan felt distinctly uncomfortable discussing this with his father; he did not want to admit even to himself how much he ached to touch Oloriel when he was near her. Now he would have to face the issue head on. "I suppose I will just have to be careful then."

Elrond raised a doubting eyebrow at his son. He chuckled softly to himself as he remembered how he had acted when he first fell in love. He knew what it was like. "Aye… _very _careful," he agreed, "In fact, I would suggest this: try to think about how you would have Aragorn treat your own sister. Be over-protective. This girl might one day be my daughter-in-law; if you hurt her in anyway _I_ may be forced to hurt _you_."

Elladan tried not to look nervous under his father's unwavering gaze. Clearing his throat slightly he finally managed to murmur, "Thank you for the advice, _adar_ {father}." Then, as quickly as he could, he made his retreat.

To his chagrin, he had not made it more then a few steps outside of the room when his father called out to him yet again. "I was not finished."

Elladan tried to stifle a sigh. All he wanted to do at that moment was fall into bed, not be grilled by his father over matters of decorum. "What?" he asked rather testily as he turned back.

Elrond did his best to hide the amusement he felt at his son's bristling exterior. Young lovers could be so volatile. "Do not fret, I am done lecturing you. I actually have a proposition to make that I think you'll be very glad to hear."

Elladan raised a questioning eyebrow. It was amazing how much he resembled his father when he did that. 

Elrond continued. "As you know, lady Nessúlë and her companions* will be travelling to LothLorien soon; the snows on the mountains have receded enough to make the journey possible. I have grown to respect all of them, and am desirous to insure their safety. I thought that I might send you and Elrohir to accompany them. You could meet with your grandparents there; it would be profitable for me to receive some first-hand news and counsel from the Lord and Lady of the Wood. Also, I think that after Elrohir's mischief making it would be good to send him away for a while – he grows restless…"

Of course, most of what Elrond said did not register with Elladan at all, so shocked and overjoyed was he with the prospect of visiting the Golden Wood. Forgetting his recent aggravation, he jubilantly broke into his father's words. "Yes… yes, it will all be done… _diola__ lle, adar _{thank you, father}. I know that you have need of us here, but thank you… thank you!" With those words he dashed down the hallway without saying goodnight. He had to tell Oloriel.

~~~

Elladan was not prepared for the scene that met him in sleep. Rain was falling heavily from dark gray clouds, smearing the dreamscape into a mass of drab, muddy colors. The rain itself was dull; there was no wind to toss it about, no thunder to enhance it; it was just rain, falling wearily to the sodden ground.

Elladan meandered through the sparse trees, wondering if something was wrong. For several minutes he could not find Oloriel, and he worried for her. What could have kept her up so late that she was not here already?

But then he found her. Oloriel sat in the middle of a clearing, wet dress clinging to her and mud splattered across her skirts. She did not look his way, but kept staring into the distance complacently. Elladan walked forward and knelt down next to her, not caring if the mud and water seeped into his clothes. Still she did not acknowledge him. Finally, Elladan rested his fingers beneath her chin and gently turned her face toward him. Only then did he catch a full glimpse of her features; suddenly she did not look quite so complacent. Her face and eyes held a rigid quality, as though she was just trying to hold herself together. As Elladan held her in his gaze, a single tear escaped its prison and wandered down her cheek. At least he thought it was a tear; in the rain these things were hard to judge.

He brought his hand up to her face and cradled it softly, brushing his thumb across her cheek. The gesture in itself was rather pointless, since the rain just kept spattering across her pale skin each time he wiped the moisture away, but still, it had its effect. Oloriel leaned into the caress and let out a gentle sigh; she closed her eyes and her face took on a more peaceful aspect as Elladan brought his other hand up minister in the same way.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, they began to draw closer to one another. Oloriel's eyes remained closed for some time, but they fluttered open softly when Elladan's hands slid up into her hair. His face was very close, his mouth hovering just slightly above hers; she could see a new fire in his eyes that stirred up a nervous excitement in her. I slight shiver ran up her spine as Elladan leaned down to claim her lips. But, just as his lips began to brush against hers, she spoke softly. "Why do you love me?"

It took a few seconds for her words to register, but when they did Elladan pulled back to meet her eyes. His brows were slightly furrowed. "How can I explain such a thing?" he inquired.

Oloriel leant her head against his chest and entreated softly, "Please try."

Elladan smiled. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and attempted to indulge her curiosity. "I know that I love you… because my soul yearns for yours every hour of every day. I want to protect you and cherish you forever. In my eyes, your are the most beautiful creature in all of Arda." 

Oloriel sighed. "But how can you be sure of what you feel? Isn't it possible to be mistaken? Some say that Ilúvatar has fashioned a soul mate for each of the Eldar, but what if we don't choose correctly? How can we know that our hearts are not misleading us?"

A dart of fear stabbed into Elladan's heart. Was Oloriel unsure of her love for him? "What are you saying?"

Oloriel could feel Elladan's muscles tense beneath her. She realized that he could be worrying about any number of scenarios and tried swiftly to ease his mind. Lifting up her head she quickly answered. "Kallindo… it is about Kallindo. He believes that he loves me… that he _genuinely_ loves me. But… but it can't be real, can it? How can two people love me truly? …It isn't fair."

Shuddering slightly, she buried her face in his chest again, trying to gain some assurance from Elladan's comfortable embrace and familiar, though rain-washed, scent. 

He understood now. His heart ached for her dilemma; he knew that she hated feeling helpless, and when it came to matters of the heart, there was really nothing she could do for Kallindo. He also knew that she still felt uncomfortable leaning on someone else for aid; and now, not only was she allowing others to become a part of her life, but she was also having to experience some of the pain that went along with that gamble. He wished, like every other young lover that he could just make everything wonderful for her… but he knew that he couldn't. 

She spoke again, mumbling into his drenched tunic. "I want to believe that I love you and could love no other, but by believing that, I condemn Kallindo. He is sure that he loves me. What will happen if he cannot have me? Is he doomed never to love again? Will grief take him or is his love somehow less then mine? How does one tell the difference?"

Elladan sighed. He wasn't sure that he knew the answers to her questions, but he had to try and ease her burden. 

"Love is… well, it is the most precious gift of Ilúvatar, but he does not give it to us freely, we must earn it. True love only comes with time and great patience. I have known the love of my parents and siblings, and I trust it because it has lasted throughout millennia. I want to be able to tell you that I love you with all of my heart, but in truth I cannot be sure. Ask me ten years from now and maybe I'll be closer to the answer. Right now it feels like you are my entire world, but I have to admit that my love is as yet just a seed, a brilliant spark of what might be. …I hope that, if you will help me, this seed will one day grow into a mighty forest that will stand against every onslaught; I pray that it will keep growing, ever-green, through all the ages of this world… 

"Sadly, it appears that you hold the love and the hearts of two elves in your hand, lady; one of those seeds will never greet the light of day. But remember that our love is young yet, and take comfort in knowing that, whereas you cannot save him, Kallindo can save himself. He has a choice; if he allows himself to fade there is nothing that you can do for him, but if he determines to live, then he will live, and eventually he will prosper. It is his decision; you are not responsible for his fate."

Oloriel sighed into him. "Why do you always have to be so wise?"

Elladan's face split into an amused grin. He squeezed her shoulders gently then replied, "Am I not the son of Elrond Peredhil, lore master extroardinaire? It would be a great pity if at least some of his intelligence had not rubbed off on me, would it not?"

Oloriel laughed quietly. "Aye, I suppose it would." Her laughter tapered off as she met his gaze with her own. Sobering quickly, she reached up and brushed a strand of dark hair out of his face as she continued. "And not only are you wise, but you are honest… thank you for that. Many an elf would swear his undying devotion with empty words; your actions have always shown me the greatest affection and tenderness, and yet you will not boast of it. If the love you have shown me is only a seed of what your heart can contain, then I stand in awe of what may yet be."

Elladan did not reply, but took her hand in his and kissed the palm of it almost reverently. After several moments of silence, he stood, trying to ignore the mud that now caked his leggings. Looking down at Oloriel, he reached out his hand for her to take. "_Tolo__,_ _nethmeleth__ nín _{Come, my young love}, let us see if we cannot find some shelter from this incessant downpour."

Oloriel agreed to his proposition willingly, grasping his hand as he pulled her up from her sitting position. Only then did Elladan notice how very well Oloriel's wet dress clung to her figure, outlining, well, everything. To his dismay he found it extremely… distracting. Suddenly the words of his father echoed through his mind: _"try to think about how you would have Aragorn treat your own sister_._ Be over-protective_._" _It made sense; he wanted someone for his sister who would love her for more than her beauty and who would always treat her with the utmost respect; Oloriel deserved no less. There would always be time to explore their love for each other; but if he ever wanted to discover how true these first initial stirrings of love were, now was the time to be clear-headed. Now was _not _the time to take advantage of his lady's unfortunately revealing position. With reluctant determination he turned his eyes back to the landscape, trying to find a place for them to take shelter in. 

As they were searching it dawned on Elladan how ridiculous this situation was. They were, after all, dreaming; why should they have to find shelter? He voiced his confusion. "Oloriel, couldn't you just make the rain stop?"

She looked up at him with a contemplative look on her face. "I suppose I might be able to, but I don't think it's that simple. Dreams do not always reflect things that we have control over. I think my heart is set on rain tonight; it will be alright – I love rain. Let's us just duck in under that over-hang." Oloriel pointed to a large rock that jutted out from a hillside. It wasn't perfect but it would do.

Oloriel curled up next to Elladan, who sat with his back against the hill. He folded her in his arms and drew her closer to him, resting his head against her wet hair. Matters of decorum were pushed to the side for later examination as he was presented with a waterlogged Oloriel; he let himself be ruled by the instinct to keep her warm. It was a rather silly impulse – elves were not that fragile, and it was only a dream – but it seemed natural nonetheless. After all, as Elrond had said, these dreams definitely did not follow the same rules. 

As Elladan thought of his fathers words again, and happy jolt shot through him. He had yet to tell Oloriel the good news.

Shaking her shoulders gently to get her attention he bent his head down and whispered, "I can't wait till I can finally see you as you truly are."

Oloriel smiled up at him. "I look forward to it as well; I wish that we did not have to wait so long. I would just come to you if I could, but I'm afraid that I don't hold enough importance to secure the escort that would be required to make the journey safely; the guard is needed at home."

"So why do not I come to you?"

Oloriel looked up at him in surprise? Elladan had claimed before that he was needed at home and that the journey could not be made for at least several months. What had changed?

"What… what do you mean?" she asked excitedly. Her mouth was parted in surprise, and her eyes widened in anticipation.

Elladan laughed, then placed a kiss on her hairline. "It means that my father has requested my brother and I to join a convoy that is journeying to LothLorien before the end of the month. It should not take much longer than two weeks on horseback to arrive there… but every day will seem like an age until I can truly hold you in my arms."

Oloriel's face broke into a brilliant smile. Throwing her arms around his neck, she planted a kiss on his cheek and whispered joyfully, "Oh, Elladan, I will start looking for you a week before you are expected, just in case… Oh, I can't wait to see you… you will make everything better, I am sure of it."

Elladan circled her waist with his arms and leaned his face into her neck. Sighing, he whispered back, "I shall try."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

It was early morning as Kallindo slid off of his horse, feet landing on the ground with a dull impact. He had not the energy to be graceful. He felt a great hollowness within that grew with each passing moment; as though the wind had been knocked out of him... permanently.

Oloriel would not have anything to do with him. That was the only thing that his mind could register at the moment. The dream that he had been harboring for months had been shattered with one swift motion. And now he felt nothing. There was a hole inside of him somewhere, a great vacancy, but the sting of the blow had not yet found its way to his heart. He simply felt heavy; his whole body ached to rest and, if possible, to forget.

As Kallindo was putting away his horse, a noise on the other side of the stable drew him out of his reverie. Soon an elf stepped out from a stall a few yards away. Kallindo recognized him; he was one of the March wardens. 

Haldir had been busy in his own thoughts, but when he saw the ashen countenance of Kallindo he paused. Normally he wouldn't have pried into affairs that were none of his business; but where the border patrol and those of the border patrol were concerned, everything was his business, and he knew that something was amiss. "You are Kallindo, are you not?" he inquired.

Kallindo swallowed then replied softly, "Aye."

"Have ill tidings fallen upon you? You do not look well. Is there any way that I can I be of service?"

Kallindo laughed a dry, shallow laughed, then muttered, "You cannot help me… no one can."

Haldir cast a quick glance over the other elf. His shoulders sagged; his hands hung limply at his side and the light of his eyes was dimmed. Haldir could only think of a few reasons for an elf to look so downtrodden, but he decided not to voice his opinions. Instead, he took Kallindo by the shoulder and started leading him out of the stables.

"Come, if you cannot fix your problem, you can at least try to forget it. Several of the western patrolmen are having a breakfast gathering this morning before they head off on a rather lengthy tour of duty. There will be food and song and good company. I cannot leave you alone in such a dark mood."

Kallindo didn't have the energy to resist. Inclining his head in agreement, he was released from Haldir's hold on his arm. Together they walked out into the ever-brightening dawn.

***

1. I've chosen to speak of Nessúlë as the head of their group because I've decided that Lantél is actually younger than her, and Alarkelú is more of a "protector" to both of them.

Winners of the "Win a Random Cute Elf Raffle":

**Mrs. Ekeena Greenlead: **You get to take home…. *drum roll*…. Your very own, handsomely stunning, amazingly strong, wonderfully charming Rúmil!!! Congratulations… take good care of him!

Melia: Sorry, you didn't get the cute elf, but you do get to take home a nice shiny coil of elven rope… it may just come in handy if you're ever taking a morning stroll through Mordor. ^_~ Icy878: And last, but certainly not least, you get to take home a bottle of Imladris' finest… miruvor! Don't drink it all at one time now! = P ~Iluvien~ 


	21. Love's Labors Lost

Disclaimer: OCs are mine (i.e. Oloriel, Nessúlë, Lantél, Alarkelú, Írima, Nimfallë, Hallandakil, etc, etc.). Plot is mostly mine. Middle Earth was never mine.

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

'*' signals a footnote

__________________________

Chapter 21.) Love's Labors Lost

***

__

Look for me by moonlight;  
Watch for me by moonlight  
_– _Alfred Noyes

***

Recap: Elladan and Elrohir will be escorting Nessúlë & co. to LothLorien. This chapter takes place on the day of their departure. Kallindo is still depressed because Oloriel has rejected him; he has avoided her for over a week now. 

"How in all of Arda did you manage to acquire so much baggage in so short a stay?" Arwen looked in amazement at the pile of traveling bags and belongings, already accrued on top of Nessúlë's bed.

Nessúlë collapsed onto a part of the bed that was not covered and sighed. "I have no idea. I came to this hidden sanctuary with two saddlebags and a sword at my hip; where this other stuff came from I cannot tell." She picked up a delicate shawl that had been gifted to her by… someone, and looked at it with a mixture of curiosity and ignorance, as though she were saying, 'And where did _you_ come from?'

Arwen just laughed at her bewilderment. "It doesn't matter how it all came to be here, I suppose. The question is how will you get it to where you are going? You cannot possibly be thinking of taking it all with you. You would need at least five packhorses!"

"I know, I know," groaned Nessúlë, "But what can I do?"

Arwen's eyes narrowed slightly as she let her mind mull over the problem. "It seems obvious," she finally replied, "You must simply leave most of it here in your room, and when you come back to visit, it will all be here waiting for you."

Nessúlë brightened. "Could I come back? Oh that is a lovely thought. I would hate to be separated from you forever. Although, I daresay that I would not be able to come for a long while."

"It does not matter," Arwen assured, "Imladris will always be welcome to you."

Nessúlë smiled up at her friend. "And I will always welcome Imladris. You have all been very kind to me, and I will not forget it."

"I should think not!" came a masculine voice from the doorway, "We are, after all, very unforgettable." 

Nessúlë rolled her eyes. "You have the oddest knack for showing up unexpected and uninvited, Elrohir. I suppose that is _why_ I will never be able to forget you. Just when I think I am finally free, I will turn a corner, and there you will be, standing with that silly smirk on your face."

Elrohir bowed gallantly and favored her with an especially silly smirk. "I would never contradict a lady."

Arwen interrupted their banter then. "And just why have you come to a lady's private chambers uninvited, brother? Or have you forgotten so soon?"

Elrohir walked further into the room, planted a kiss on his sister's cheek, and replied. "I have come to take Lady Nessúlë's bags out to the stable yard. Are they ready?"

Arwen and Nessúlë looked at each other and groaned simultaneously. "The question is not whether they are ready," Nessúlë finally replied, "But, how many of them are ready?" She swept her hand in a wide arc to showcase the multitude of boxes, bags, and loose paraphernalia that lay scattered across her bed.

Elrohir's eyes widened slightly. "Oh… maybe I'll come back in a few minutes?"

Arwen chuckled. "Yes, do that."

Elrohir retreated swiftly. 

"He may be a skilled warrior," Arwen remarked, "but when it comes to tackling the mystery of a lady's trousseau*, he is out of his league."

The two _elleths _smirked cheekily, then turned a critical eye on the mound of baggage and set to work whittling it down.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan rubbed his horse's neck as it nuzzled into his hand to claim the last few morsels of sweet grain that had rested there. He had come to the stables early that day; making sure that everything was in readiness. He spent extra time grooming his steed to let out some the restless energy that was building up inside of him. Two weeks from now he would see Oloriel. This thought was all that his mind could focus on. He itched to be off and on his way. What could be taking everyone so long?

To his relief, Arwen and Nessúlë finally approached the stable, each carrying a saddlebag. He helped them load the bags onto Nessúlë's horse, one behind and one in front of where she would sit.

"Well, we are all set then?" Nessúlë questioned as she scratched her mare behind the ear.

Elladan was about to reply when Alarkelú walked up, leading his own horse behind him. "Nay, lady, not all are in readiness. Elrohir and Lantél seem to have wandered off somewhere."

Elladan sighed. What was his brother up to? 

"Come, Alarkelú," Nessúlë called as she walked out of the stable, "We will go in search of them. I am anxious to be off."

Alarkelú followed her willingly, leaving Arwen and Elladan behind with the horses.

Elladan scuffed the hard dirt of the stable floor impatiently with his soft leather boot. He was sick of waiting. As he felt a small hand come to rest on his shoulder, his restless movement stilled. Turning, he saw the lovely, courageous face of his sister, Arwen, looking up at him with compassion. His frustration dissipated as he looked into her eyes. "And how will you fare, _laes gwathel _{baby sister}, while we are gone?"

Arwen smiled softly. "I will survive as I always have. Take care of my new friends and come back to me safely."

"Is that all that you ask? Are you contented with so little?"

Arwen laughed, "Oh, but it is not such a little thing. And yet, you are right in that it is not all that I want."

Elladan squeezed her hand. "Might I be of service?"

The glint in his sister's eyes told him that he had struck the right chord. "Actually, now that you mention it… I do have something that you could do for me." Elladan's silence prompted her to continue. Drawing a small missive out of a hidden pocket in the folds of her gown, she pressed it into his hands and spoke. "It may be that the Fellowship will pass through LothLorien. Since they are on foot you may arrive even before they do. If this is the case, give this letter to our grandmother. She will see that Estel* receives it

Elladan held the packet gently; it was thick and doubtless contained many pages. He looked up at his sister with a sad smile and assured her that he would see the mission through. "Estel is a fortunate man. I am sure that this will lift his weary heart." 

Arwen turned as the rest of the travelling party came into the stable. 

"They only went to find us and carry my bags," explained Nessúlë, "But they took a different path to my room, and so they missed us coming out."

Arwen nodded in understanding then made her way toward the door. "Well, it seems as if you are finally ready. I will go stand with _adar _at the gate. He is waiting to bid you all farewell." 

In just a few moments everyone was mounted and waiting to depart. Elrohir and Alarkelú obligingly took up the lead position, riding side by side out of the stable yard. Elladan took up the rear of their procession. As the horses walked slowly toward the lower end of the valley, he let his mind wander. He thought of the letter that Arwen had given him to deliver. It was tucked away safely in one of his saddlebags. Reaching a hand up to finger the small pouch that hung from his neck, his thoughts turned toward his own mission. He too had a message to bring to the Golden Wood. He just hoped that it would be received well.

Looking up, Elladan spied his father, and a rather large company of elves, awaiting them at one of the arching stone gates. The travelers pulled up abreast of each other as they halted in front of the gathering. Raising his hands in a sign of entreaty, Elrond spoke an Elven blessing upon their journey.

__

"An nossvín o Mithlond: Nedhgoe minnel an mín, aen gwannel ansîdh {To our kindred from Mithlond: In fear you came to us, may you depart with peace}. _Aen i'Valar ortiria le pân. Laervín garna le erin lend;_ _aen bain suil garna le _{May the Valar watch over you all. Our songs attend you on the journey; may fair winds go with you}." 

In chorus, the company replied, "_Ar na le _{And also with you}_"_

Elladan was the first to turn his horse toward the path that would lead them from Imladris. Slowly the others followed him. As they made their way out of the valley, the gentle, lilting sound of Elven voices raised in song came to them upon the breeze.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Did I actually see you smile?" Orophin asked in astonishment.

Kallindo rolled his eyes. "What of it?'

"Come now, I don't think I've seen you smile since I met you. You're usually too busy pining away after your lady love."

A soft growl hovered in the back of Kallindo's throat. "Why did I agree to come with you again?" 

Orophin laughed. "Because I wouldn't have stopped pestering you unless you had."

"Ah yes, that is right. Of course, you're still pestering me, so maybe I should leave." 

Despite his threats, Kallindo did not leave. It may not have appeared so at the moment, but a somewhat tentative friendship had sprung up between him and Orophin after they had met through Haldir several days before. And while the other's incessant teasing would sometimes grate on his nerves, Kallindo knew that it was better than sitting around in his flet moping.

Kallindo broke the silence that had fallen between the two elves as they walked beneath the trees of Lorien. "You have no room to speak. At least you have Úruvatárien*. If she was taken from you, you would pine as well."

Orophin laughed softly. "Aye, if my wife was taken from me my heart would go with her. But Kallindo, I have been married to her for two hundred and ninety-three years. You never even began to court this maiden. The comparison is very weak."

"The principle is the same," Kallindo replied gloomily.

Orophin just shook his head. He had taken Kallindo under his wing as something of a pet project, but he had had no idea at the time that his new hobby would grow into a full-blown career. Kallindo always seemed to be wallowing in shadows. 'It will pass,' he reassured himself, 'Like all things, it will pass.'

The two companions were drawing closer to Orophin's flet, which was their objective. They had gone out early that morning to practice with several other elves at the armory, and had both missed their breakfast. Hopefully, Úruvatárien had left something edible out for them before she left to sit with the master weavers.

As they came around a bend in the path, Orophin almost tripped over a maiden, who was crouching down to pick up some dropped packets of herbs.

"Oh… Pardon me, my lady. I did not see you from around the bend… Here, let me help you."

Orophin leant down to pick up some of the paper packets. He tried to hand them to her, but only then did he realize that she had frozen in her movements, with a look of shock and distress on her face.

"Lady? Is something the matter?"

When she didn't answer, Orophin looked to Kallindo for help, only to find that he was in much the same state as the maiden. Both of them were still as stone.

Orophin waved a hand in front of Kallindo's face. "Hello… wake up my friend."

Kallindo blinked then sucked in a sharp breath. The maiden too seemed to come out of her trance. She took one tentative step backward and then bolted.

'Lady!" Orophin called after her, raising the packets that were still in his hands, "Your herbs–" But she was gone.

Orophin turned back to his companion with a puzzled look on his face. "What was all that about?" he began, but stopped when he saw the sickly pallor of Kallindo's face. "Kallindo, what is wrong?"

For several moments he received no answer, but eventually Kallindo spoke. "I…I've… I've lost her. Completely lost her."

The fog in Orophin's mind began to clear. "That was _her_ wasn't it?"

Kallindo ignored the question. "Did you see how she ran from me? I… I did that. She was my friend… I did not always pursue her. She was always my friend, and now… now I don't even have that… I love her, but it's all gone… I have lost everything."

Orophin looked on with sad eyes as Kallindo sank to his knees and covered his face with his hands. Silence. Silence reigned for many long moments. After some while Orophin tried to get his friend to speak to him, but all his attempts failed. Eventually he decided to let him be. With reluctant steps he left Kallindo and made his way toward his flet. Now was not the time for conversation. What could be said?

*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

"I am not!" Nessúlë cried in mock indignation.

Her four male companions just kept chuckling.

"Aye, you are too," countered Lantél, "Stubborn as a dwarf!" He turned to Elrohir and continued his narration. "She was so set on learning how to wield a sword when she was young that she pestered _adar _for months and months to let her train. Finally, to get her to stop he came to her one day and told her that she _had _to learn swordplay. And so, just because he was _making _her do it, she utterly refused to attend the lessons and said that she would rather muck out stalls than learn how to wield a blade."

Elrohir look over at Nessúlë and broke into a fresh bought of laughter when he saw the look of embarrassed consternation on her face. He didn't think that he'd ever seen her flustered before. 

"Well..." she began to counter weakly, "Well, I grew out of it anyway..." Elrohir's laughter increased with that statement. Nessúlë's indignation flared up at his continued mirth, dispelling the former sense of shame. "Don't tell me you never did anything foolish as an elfling, Elrohir – I know better. Your sister has told me many a tale about your roguish past, and I daresay there's much, much more to tell."

Elrohir flashed her a quirky smile and replied. "I do not deny it. I was a living terror as a child. In fact, one of my fondest childhood memories is seeing my _adar_ covered with mud, after having slid down the steep bank of a pond to fish out my mother's favorite shawl which I had _accidentally _dropped in."

Nessúlë just looked at him in stunned disbelief. How could he say that with such complacency? Very soon, however, her disbelief turned into satisfaction. Elrohir had been teasing her constantly for the last two hours, and as the horses walked slowly through a rather large patch of mud on the road, she came up with the perfect way to get him back. Sidling her horse up next to his, she favored him with a saccharine smile and asked, "Do you _really_ find mud so amusing?" Before Elrohir could respond, Nessúlë darted her hand out and gave him a quick, forceful shove. Elrohir went over beautifully; there was no chance that he could maintain his seat. Unfortunately, he had better reflexes than Nessúlë had counted on, and so before he went entirely over he was able to snatch her arm and drag her right down with him.

Before she knew what was happening, Nessúlë found herself lying squarely on top of Elrohir, who in turn was lying, sprawled out, in a puddle of mud. One of Elrohir's arms was around her, and her face was pressed against his neck. Nessúlë lifted her head up quickly, not entirely comfortable with her current position. She was prevented from further movement by Elrohir's hold on her waist. His eyes caught hers for a moment and she froze. Frantically, she searched her mind for a way to take back control of the situation. All she could think of to say was, "At least I'm not the one in the mud." Immediately after the words passed her lips she knew that they were a mistake. The wicked gleam that had ignited in Elrohir's eyes could not be good. It wasn't. 

Elrohir brought his other arm up to hold her to him... and rolled. Nessúlë now found herself in an even more uncomfortable position. Elrohir's body, lithe but strong, pressed her firmly into the muddy ground. The wicked gleam in his eyes spread throughout his entire face, until he was smirking down at her with calm, collected, infuriatingly smug, satisfaction. "To answer your question, my lady," he whispered, "Yes, I find mud to be _very_ amusing." 

Nessúlë glared back at him silently. She tried shoving him off her, but he was too heavy and strong. "Would you be so kind as to remove your person from _my _person?_" _she bit out testily.

"What do you think, Lantél," Elrohir called over his shoulder. "Should I let the little dwarf up?"

Nessúlë let out an indignant cry at his reference to her. "How dare you–"

She was cut off by Lantél laughter. "Aye, let her up. Though I would be careful to watch my back from now on if I were you. She has a long memory and a cunning mind."

Elrohir looked down at his captive and smiled. "I was not the one who started this quarrel." Nessúlë's eyes narrowed into slits, but she did not retort. Without saying another word, Elrohir rolled off of her, right back into the mud. 

"I don't suppose that there is any place near here where we could wash up?" asked Nessúlë of Elladan, who had leant his hand to aid her in rising.

"There is a place some ways up the trail, but it will take at least an hour to arrive there."

"Oh well, I suppose we will survive. Shall we–"

Nessúlë's voice was cut by Alarkelu's hiss. "Sssh! I hear something."

They all paused and listened. Heavy feet, many heavy, distant feet were trudging across the ground. And there was a smell, a smell that sent shivers down their spine. 

Orcs.

"They are to the southwest of us, not blocking our path," Elrohir spoke first. "The wind is on our side and will not give away our position away. We should be able to ride on in safety." 

Elladan's brows furrowed. "But how is it that they are so close to home? We are less than two hours outside the borders of Imladris. This should not be. How could we be unaware of them?"

Elladan just shook his head. He did not know.

"They are marching toward Imladris!" Alarkelú whispered urgently. He had continued to listen intently and was certain now of the direction that the orcs were heading.

"We must ride back and warn them!" exclaimed Elrohir.

"Nay," Elladan replied, "For they stand between us and Imladris. It would be perilous to cross their path. One of us should go, but we cannot risk the whole company."

Elrohir's heart sank. He was that person. He knew that Elladan went to Lorien to see Oloriel, and the rest of the company went there to make a new life for themselves. But he... well, he did not need to be there. And yet, his heart ached at the thought of being separated from Nessúlë; they might never see each other again in Middle Earth. 

Elladan too was thinking. He saw the subtle signs of Elrohir's distress and read them rightly. He knew that his brother was beginning to develop feelings for Nessúlë, but if they parted now, only the Valar knew if anything would ever come of it. He longed to see Oloriel, but at least he was sure of her affection. There was no question, no indecision between them. Sighing softly, he realized that he did not need this as much as his brother did.

Just as Elrohir opened his mouth to speak, Elladan jumped in. "I will go. I will go back."

Elrohir looked at him in amazement. Elladan tried to reassure him with a confident smile. "Send my love to grandmother and grandfather. And here, take this letter with you. It is from Arwen, should Estel pass through the Golden Wood." Elrohir just looked at his brother with a sad smile for several moments, and then reluctantly nodded his head. 

"May we meet again in fairer times," Alarkelú spoke. Lantél and Nessúlë murmured their agreement.

"Come," Elrohir spoke softly, "we must go."

Elladan watched dejectedly as the others turned their horses and sped down the trail. He hoped that he had made the right decision. Reaching his hand up absent-mindedly, he clutched at the leather pouch that hung on its long cord from around his neck. "_Anim hiraetha, meleth nín_. _Im ú-tha minna an le na aur; tirio an nin nedh ýl _{I'm sorry, my love. I will not come to you by sunlight; watch for me in dreams}."

***

1. I know that a "trousseau" is generally associated with a bride, not just a woman, but work with me here…

2. Some of you might remember that bratprincess won Orophin in the first "Win a Cute Elf" raffle. Well, I thought it would be cool to put her in the story with Orophin, but 'bratprincess' isn't exactly a proper Elven name. So I came up with Úruvatárien, which means "fiery daughter of a queen" ^_~

Things to Know:

Úruvatárien: 'fiery daughter of a queen'

Laes gwatherl: 'baby sister' 

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An nossvín o Mithlond: Nedhgoe minnel an mín, aen gwannel ansîdh: "To kindred-our from Mithlond: In-fear entered-you to us, may(-it-be) depart-you with-peace." (apparently you can tack 'l' onto the end of a word for 'you')

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Aen i'Valar ortiria le pân. Laer vín garna le erin lend; _aen bain suil garna le: _"May(-it-be) the-Valar over-watch you all. Songs our hold-with/to you; may(-it-be) fair winds hold-with/to you." 

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Ar na le: "And with you"

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na and _an _seem to be interchangeable, meaning "with, to, toward, from, by"

Anim hiraetha, meleth nín. _Im ú-tha minna an le na aur; tirio an nin nedh ýl: _"I-am sorry, love my. I not-will enter to you by sunlight; look for me in dreams." (I'm not sure about the accuracy of 'anim hiraetha'. The Gray Company came up with 'amin hiraetha', but they are not known for their accuracy, and they often mix Sindarin with Quenyan)

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	22. Some Days are Just Like That

Disclaimer: See previous chapters for heaven's sake.

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

'*' signals a footnote

****

A/N: Sorry it took so long. I was sick and then I had midterms, so life has been kind of crazy. I guess that this chapter kind of reflects that = P Don't worry, it has a nice sappy ending, and it extra long to make up for the wait. ^_~

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Chapter 22.) Some Days are Just Like That

***

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O love, if you were here, _this dreary, weary day,_

If your lips, warm and dear found some sweet word to say, 

Then hardly would seem drear, these skies of wintry gray

Philip Bourke Marston 

***

Recap: Elladan was on his way to LothLorien with his brother and their guests, when a pack of orcs decided to try and sneak up on Imladris. Elrohir was about to volunteer to go back and warn the city when Elladan steps in. Because Elladan doesn't want to separate Elrohir and Nessúlë he takes up the mission himself.

Elladan crept through the underbrush carefully, moving with graceful, quiet ease over the rugged terrain. He had almost made it safely around the mass of orcs, but then had left his horse in a clearing some ways off so that he could better approach the enemy and ascertain their numbers.

The smell was overwhelming. Elladan was silently cursing his heightened, elven senses as the curling odor of sweat-coated, grisly orc flesh seeped through the trees and into his nostrils. Thankfully, the wind was in Elladan's favor, and so the orcs were not favored with a warning hint of him.

The careless shuffling of the many orc feet reverberated throughout the forest. Elladan knew that he was getting very close. Leaping up into a tree, he made his way through the branches until he could catch a glimpse of the moving mass. There were several hundred Orcs pushing and stomping their way through the foliage. He could see their gnarled, mutilated faces, grim and lifeless, yet ruthless all the same. The sight made him shudder slightly. 

Having gathered the information that he set out to find, Elladan turned and made his way back through the branches. Unfortunately, he was not paying as close attention to his efforts as he should have. Stepping onto a rotten branch, he was unable to catch hold of another limb before he unceremoniously crashed down to the forest floor. 

Elladan froze and listened. He had put enough distance between himself and the orcs so that they could not see him, but they would definitely have heard the commotion. Several pairs of iron-shod feet began to thump along the forest floor toward him. Elladan jumped quickly back up into the trees and started making his way cautiously toward the clearing where he had left his horse. The orcs were in view now, several yards away from the tree that he stood in. If they looked up there was a chance that they would see him. Elladan flattened himself against the large trunk of the tree behind him and held his breath.

The orcs looked around warily for some time, eventually beginning a retreat back to the group. Elladan let his breath out quietly in relief, but his worries were not over. Just as the orcs were disappearing into the foliage, his horse whinnied in the distance. Elladan rolled his eyes to the heavens in exasperation. The orcs growled and turned toward the noise, quickly making their way in that direction. Determined not to loose his horse, Elladan sprang into action, jumping through the trees in an effort to out-run the orcs. 

He was almost to the clearing when an orc arrow whizzed past his shoulder. With an extra burst of speed, Elladan leapt onto a branch that hung out over the clearing and jumped from it to his steed. Begging his horse for speed, the stallion tensed its muscles and sprang forward with a mighty bound. Just then, the fastest orc sprang from the surrounding trees and charged at Elladan with his jagged, black blade. With deliberate calm, Elladan unsheathed a small dagger at his hip and threw it with deadly precision as the orc's head. The orc fell dead before it could lower its blow on the horse and rider. Without looking back, Elladan allowed his mount's churning strides to carry him swiftly out of the clearing and away toward Imladris. Orc arrows followed his departure, but none found their target.

Several orcs, alerted now to the presence of a spy, tried to bar Elladan's path, but each one was hewn down with his skillfully wielded sword. In moments, Elladan had carved himself a clear path toward Imladris.

~~~

"Lord Elrond, your son approaches!"

Elrond's attention shifted quickly away from the parchment he was reading and a look of confusion settled on his ancient brow. 'My son? Which one, and for what purpose?'

Striding quickly to a window, Elrond looked out upon one of Imladris's many courtyards and spied a rider pulling up his high-strung steed before the steps of the house. It was Elladan. 

With furrowed brow Elrond turned from the window and strode out into the hallway. He was almost to the front entryway when Elladan burst into the building, calling out to him. 

"_Adar, _the enemy approaches!"

Elrond quickly rounded the last corner of the hallway and came in view of his son. "Orcs from the mountains? How many?"

Elladan breathing was slightly labored, but he had no trouble answering his father. "Yes. I expect that they driven by hunger; the winters are harsh in the Hithaeglir {misty mountains}. There were over two hundred of them at the least; they will arrive before sundown."

Elrond nodded briskly then turned to the guard that had announced his son's return. "Send word to Glorfindel, tell him to ready three squadrons to march out within the hour. Alert the guardhouse also; they must be ready to secure the defenses of the city."

The guard saluted Elrond solemnly and then departed on his errand.

Only then did Elrond allow fear to creep into his eyes. "_Ion nín, _why of all the company have only you returned?"

"Do not worry, _adar_, the others are safe. The orcs had wandered between us and the city, so it was decided upon that only one of us should attempt the crossing to bring warning."

"And you came back?" Elrond inquired. Elladan knew what the hidden question was: 'You gave up seeing Oloriel?'

Elladan shrugged sadly. "I did not wish to separate Elrohir from a certain maiden."

Elrond nodded slowly. "Ah, so that is how it goes, does it?"

"Aye," Elladan smiled sadly, "All I can say is that, after what I've done for him, he had better make something of it… There are times that I just hate being noble."

His father chuckled softly. "I'm sure that you will think up a way for your brother to repay you. Come, will you ride out with me?"

"Of course, _adar_, how could I stay behind while the enemy stands at out doorstep?"

Elrond nodded in approval. "Very well then, let us go meet Glorfindel."

~~~

Elladan wiped the perspiration off his brow with a quick pass of his hand. The orcs had finally been driven back – the few remaining were in scattered retreat – and only now did he have a moment to pause and catch his breath. He looked around him with disappointment – it would take months for this section of the forest to rid itself of the awful stench of orc slaughter. 

"It is a gruesome sight, is it not?" one of the younger guards commented as he came up beside Elladan. 

"Aye." Elladan did not have any more to say; there was nothing more to say. Mangled bodies lay strewn across the forest floor; black orc blood was splattered everywhere. After his mother had been captured and tortured by the orcs, Elladan used to take an almost sadistic delight in waging war on them. But the more he fought, the more he realized that it would never make the sting go away. Orcs were a mindless, reckless source of evil, and he would continue to stand against them, but it brought him little comfort or satisfaction. 

After another few moments of silence, Elladan turned to the guard. "Come, let's report back to my father."

~~~

It was night. Elladan had finally extracted himself from the aftermath of the battle, and now he stood wearily in the doorway of his chambers. He looked around the room despondently. Why had he chosen to come back? All he could think of was the merry time that his brother was probably having on the road to LothLorien and how he should have been there, sharing it with him.

Flexing his soar shoulder slightly, he grimaced as the bandage shifted over his wound. Apparently the gash across his shoulder blade was still quite tender. With care Elladan began to remove his tunic, trying not to enflame his wound. The fabric got caught on the leather cord that still hung around his neck, but with some maneuvering he was finally able to extract himself from the garment.

Sighing, he reached up and caught hold of the small leather bag that was suspended from the cord, lifting it over his head as well and setting it gently on top of a table by the fireplace. He looked at it for some moments, and then picked it back up again. Loosening the drawstring, he opened the bag and let its contents fall into his hand. A silver ring fell out, delicate and simple. A small opal rested in its setting, and elegant Elven _tengwar _{letters/writing} trailed down the band on one side of the stone. The words were simple as well: _le ôl nín_:"You are my dream."

Elladan closed his hand around the ring and frowned. He had meant to give this to Oloriel in two weeks time, but now, there was no telling when he would actually see her. His heart ached at the thought. Putting the ring back into the leather pouch, he turned away from it toward his washing room. He would take a quick bath and then make for his bed. At least he could still meet his love in dreams.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oloriel growled in frustration, as the offending needle once again found its way into one of her fingers. She had been full of nervous energy that evening, and so had decided to finally mend her slowly growing pile of torn clothing. There had been several loose hems, a cloak that had gotten snared on a branch, and a well-loved nightgown that was looking worse for wear. Of course, there was a reason why she usually put this task off – she just wasn't very good at it. She always managed to get her string snarled, to accidentally sew things up that weren't supposed to be sown, or to torture her fingers with repeated pinpricks. 

With another outraged cry she threw the whole bundle onto the floor, glaring darts at the offending tangled mess. It was at this moment that Oloriel heard a voice somewhere in a nearby flet ask, "Do I smell something burning?"

Another moan escaped her then. She had been trying to heat up two small meat pies that she had pilfered from the kitchens, but in her preoccupation with the mending, she had forgot all about them. The sharp sent of burning food invaded her sense, and caused her to flinch. 

Getting up quickly she hurried over to her small hearth and tried her best to lift the pies out without burning herself. She accomplished this task, but not without letting quite a few ashes and embers escape the fire. Turning quickly to find a utensil with which to scoop them back in, she stubbed her toe on a sturdy, metal tea pot and spilled the last vestiges of its cold, wet contents onto the floor.

Yelping softly and grasping at her injured member, Oloriel tumbled awkwardly onto the now wet floor and promptly started to cry. She felt horribly foolish for doing so, but she just couldn't help it. This day just would not give her a moment's peace. Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong: from her work in the healing houses, to her archery practice, to running into Kallindo again at lunch – something was out to get her, she was sure of it. Her only consolation was the thought that the day could not possibly go on forever. Sleep would come, and with it, Elladan.

The throbbing in her toe finally started to abate. Using the edge of her apron to dab at the corners of her eyes, she sniffed one final time and then got to her feet. She was done – no longer would she try to accomplish anything of purpose. Grabbing a book from her modest collection she replaced her now tea-stained dress with a nightgown, put on some warm thick socks and crawled into bed, tired and defeated.

*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

After some time of restless thought and movement, Elladan finally drifted into sleep. The dark room around him melted into a quiet orchard at evening. After a few minutes to searching he found his love huddled up beneath a small apple tree.

He was still disheartened and secretly wanted to be fondled-over a little bit, but when he saw Oloriel in such a subdued posture, it gave him pause.

"Oloriel," he called out to her softly.

She lifted her head up from where it had been resting on her knees. A soft smile turned up the corners of her mouth.

"I am glad you are come," she sighed quietly, "This day has been so wearying – you are the only good to come out of it. I can not wait until you are come to the wood, you will make for such a happy distraction."

Elladan flinched slightly. He did not look forward to breaking the bad news to Oloriel.

"What is wrong?" she asked perceptively, not missing his visibly uncomfortable reaction.

"Um… I… something happened…" he trailed off hopelessly.

Oloriel's countenance darkened. What more could go wrong that day? "Something happened," she repeated slowly.

Elladan rubbed the back of his neck and muttered something unintelligible under his breath before replying, "Aye, something happened… and… and you will not like it."

"Oh Elladan, what now? I do not think I can handle anything else going wrong. Just… just don't tell me; we will ignore it together."

Elladan chuckled dryly. "But you will have to know sooner or later, and I think you would want to know."

"Fine," she muttered in resignation.

She scooted over a little bit to give Elladan some room as he set down beside her. Leaning up against the tree he spoke. "I will not be coming to the wood; I am still in Imladris."

Oloriel just stared at him silently. 

Elladan's heart fell when he saw the startled look on her face. He turned away in frustration; he hated letting her down like this, but it had seemed like the right thing to do at the time. 

When Elladan turned away from her, Oloriel felt a slight sting in her heart. Why wasn't he coming? Why wouldn't he look at her? What was wrong? There were just too many questions, and her head was already full and spinning. She decided to try and calm down and just wait for a better explanation. She waited quite some time, but Elladan never spoke. Of course, Elladan never spoke, because Oloriel didn't speak. So both of them were expectantly waiting for the other one to say something and getting increasingly annoyed that they didn't. Finally, Oloriel broke the silence.

"Well?" he voice had a slight sharpness to it, and contrasted harshly against the pervading silence. "Aren't you going to tell me why?"

Elladan turned back to her with a wearied look. He really didn't feel like recounting the whole tale, and he didn't want Oloriel to worry about the orc attack, but he supposed that he should say something. "I… I had to return to Imladris."

"Why?" Oloriel questioned again.

Elladan sighed, "There was an emergency… can we just not speak of it. You were right – let's just ignore it for tonight. This day has had enough disappointments."

Maybe it was the stressful day, or maybe it was her unsettled state of mind, but something in Oloriel set her emotions on edge. Why was Elladan avoiding the question? She just wanted to know why he wasn't coming. She knew that there must be something wrong. Maybe… maybe he just didn't want to come! Her mind rebelled against this notion, but then, why wouldn't he answer her simple question?

"Fine," she shot out rashly, "If you don't _want_ to answer the question…"

Elladan shifted away from her slightly. 'Oloriel, it's not… it's not that I don't want to, it's just… Just please don't pester me about it right now. I'm just tired, so very tired–"

"Yes, and I am too," Oloriel cut it, "You're not the only one who has responsibilities, _my lord_. I have had a difficult day as well but that doesn't mean that I am going to be rude and carelessly toss you off in the middle of a conversation. However, if you find me so tiresome I will not 'pester' you further." 

Elladan groaned. Why on earth was she being so difficult and unreasonable? Couldn't she just drop it? Frustrated, the only thing he could think of to say in reply, was a short, "Fine."

Oloriel stiffened. "Fine." 

A deadening silence fell between them. Elladan and Oloriel just sat there for many long minutes, neither speaking nor glancing each other's way. Elladan slouched against the tree with arms folded petulantly across his chest, while Oloriel sat rigidly upright, holding her head proudly. Both minds were caught in a turmoil of frustration, disappointment, and confusion. The silence continued to hang thick between them, like an invisible barrier.

After quite some time, Elladan's annoyance finally started ebbing away. It was almost as if he was waking from a dream and wasn't sure where he was or how he had gotten there. All day he had looked forward to being with Oloriel and now here she was, but somehow things had gotten turned up side down. Why were they fighting? Why on earth was she not in his arms? 

As that thought floated through his mind he looked down at his folded arms. With Oloriel so near they felt empty. This was not how things were supposed to be.

Elladan took a tentative glance at her then. Her small shoulders were stiff and straight as though she was prepared to meet a fierce battle. Her delicate chin was held high, and gave her a look of regal dignity. Before he knew it, Elladan was smiling at her. 'She looks absolutely adorable, _tithenmeathor nín _{my little warrior}.'

While Elladan was thinking these thoughts, Oloriel's were not too far away. She was mentally chastising herself for her angry outburst. She had taken her frustration out on Elladan and now she couldn't even remember what it had been for. There was no reason to be angry. There was, of course, a very sensible reason why Elladan was not coming – he would not be false with her.

But now what should she do? He was probably furious over her childish, discourteous actions. How would she mend the situation? She felt that she should apologize, but it was taking her some time to work up the courage. 

It was as these thoughts were tumbling through her mind that she felt Elladan's eyes on her. Slowly she turned to meet his gaze. Her breath caught in her throat as she met his glance. His eyes were filled with such a tender light; it was not condemning at all. She sighed softly as her lungs began to function again. 'Say something, Oloriel, you should say something!' Her inner voice kept urging her to speak, but her mind couldn't seem to form any coherent thoughts. Finally, she managed to whisper one word, "Elladan…"

It seemed to be enough. Elladan answered her call. Reaching out to capture her face in his hands, he drew her in to him and found her warm, pliant lips. The kiss was gentle, long, and searching, as though he were discovering something wholly new and wanted to explore all of its depth and beauty. It pained him to know that he could speak so harshly to his love, and he wanted to somehow repair the damage. Oloriel responded to his gentled ministrations, allowing him to deepen the kiss, letting his strong arms engulf her in their warmth and security. As he slid an arm around her waist to draw her in more snugly against himself, he let his mouth wander down to her neck, soliciting a small gasp from Oloriel. He smiled and made his way back to her soft lips, teasing them gently. Oloriel's wayward hands wandered up into his hair, working to undo the braids, and then down to the base of his neck, massaging the skin there in slow circles. The feel of her hands almost undid Elladan. Without realizing what he was doing, he gently began lowering Oloriel to the ground, never loosing contact with her warm, sweet mouth. Only when he felt the grass against his arms did he come to his senses.

Breaking reluctantly away from the kiss, he looked down at Oloriel, lying prone against the soft earth, panting slightly and deliciously flushed. She was beautiful, but she was not his – he had not asked, and she had not given. He thought briefly of the silver ring that still lay on the table in his bedroom. Only Eru knew when he would have the chance to give it to her. But it was not just about the ring: war was coming, death haunted their footsteps. In times like these, when nothing was certain, could he ask her to give herself to him, body and soul? He sighed softly and brushed a stray lock of golden hair away from Oloriel's face. 

"_Le uir nedh inden; aphadil aradýl nín… Im melan le _{You are ever in my heart; you haunt my waking dreams… I love you}. _Nai, tan im gar pennin thaur. Úcargaro nin carha ad – ha naegran _{Alas, that I have spoken so abominably. Do not let me do so again – it pains me}.

Oloriel's eyes glistened. "Ssshh," she crooned, caressing his cheek with her hand, "We both spoke in haste. I would ask of you the same forgiveness – I should have a little more faith in you."

Elladan smiled. "You're forgiven, of course," he murmured, taking hold of her wandering hand and placing a gentle kiss on its palm. "Still, I am sorry for my part in the business. Is there not any way that I can make it up to you?"

A stifled laugh bubbled up out of Oloriel as she replied, "You could start by getting off of me; it's rather hard to breathe."

Only then did Elladan realize that he still held Oloriel in a rather compromising position. With a lop-sided smirk he rolled off of her and got to his knees. 

Oloriel sat up and primly adjusted her light blue gown. "We are getting rather inappropriate, aren't we?" she laughed nervously, "We can't seem to keep our hands off of each other."

Elladan looked at her face and noticed that it still held a healthy bloom. He chuckled softly, "Aye, my father warned me about that. I suppose that we will just have to promise not to fight any more; that way, there won't be any 'making up' to do afterward." He winked playfully at Oloriel and then got to his feet, helping her up as well.

After she got to her feet, Oloriel leaned wearily into Elladan's chest, breathing in his warm scent, and letting her worries drift away. It was good to be with him. Finally, she tilted her head back to meet Elladan's amused gaze. She smiled, as a playful thought popped into her head. "You're very tall."

One of Elladan's brows raised slightly. "No, _meleth nín_, you are just short."

"Ah!" she cried in mock indignation, swatting his arm playfully. "No I am not – not for an _elleth_ anyway." 

"And I am not particularly tall for an elf. So the fact is, that we are both exactly as tall as we are supposed to be, and I for one am glad of it. You are just the right size to fit perfectly inside my arms: when I draw you close, I can tuck you in quite nicely underneath my chin." Elladan obligingly demonstrated what he meant, wrapping Oloriel in a tight embrace against himself and planting a kiss in her hair, before he rested his cheek there.

Oloriel laughed into his tunic. "You're so silly, _hîr nín _{my lord}."

"Why have you taken to calling me 'my lord'?" Elladan inquired, allowing her to pull back slightly from his embrace.

"I don't know," she replied nonchalantly, "I just feel like it, I suppose… now come, will you not tell me what has kept you at Imladris? I promise, I will not bite your head off again."

Elladan smiled and then obligingly began his narrative. Of course, Oloriel was still disappointed that he would not be coming, but she couldn't fault him for his motivation.

She smiled up at him. "I'm sure that I will like Nessúlë. I shall have to tease her and Elrohir to make up for your absences; perhaps that will keep me occupied."

Elladan's eyes glinted mischievously. "Oloriel, you are truly a lady after my own heart."

***

No footnotes today!

Things to Know:

hîr nín: "my lord"

"_Le uir nedh ind-en; aphad-il arad-ýl nín… Im mela-n le_: You [are] ever in heart-my; follow-you day-dreams my… I (for emphasis) love-I you 

Nai, tan im gar pennin thaur. Ú-car-garo nin car-ha ad – ha naegra-n:Alas, that I have spoken abominabe (couldn't find an adverb). Not-do-have ('do not have') me do-it again – it pains me

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~Iluvien~


	23. About a Broken Heart

Disclaimer: See previous chapters for heaven's sake.  
  
Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. '*' signals a footnote  
  
**A/N**: This is my longest chapter ever!!! And ff.net has been a little stupid lately, so if there are so odd lay-out problems, don't look at me!  
  


**A/N: **Go check out "Whispers in the Rain" by Malevolent Mystic… it's really good, but she needs some encouragement so she'll actually finish it. I'm enlisting you all so that I can find out what happens! ^_~

  
____________________________ 

Chapter 23.) About a Broken Heart  
  
***  
  
_or if your wish be to close me,_

_ i and my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly, _

_as__ when the heart of this flower imagines _

_the__ snow carefully everywhere descending_

- e. e. cummings.

***  
  
Time: It's been about two weeks since the company set out from Imladris; they are just now reaching LothLorien.

  
  
They had left the snows of the mountains several days before, but the air still held a slight chill as the traveling companions entered the golden vale of Lorien. Elrohir dismounted his horse first, and then the others followed his exampled, leading their horses into the still forest.  
  
Nessúlë gazed upon the gold and silver _mellyrn_* in awe. She had heard tales about these majestic trees, but those words could not rival the reality. They stood tall and watchful, regal and steadfast, witnesses to a time almost forgotten. Nessúlë forgot about her companions temporarily and did not even look back to see if they were following her. LothLorien seemed to have placed her beneath a spell: her careless footsteps taking her deeper and deeper into the wood. The quiet and peace that pervaded the air sunk in like a sweet perfume. The gentle murmur of a waterfall in the distance made her heart feel light and yet subdued at the same time. Time itself seemed to stand still in this place, and all that was beautiful could take refuge here.  
  
Nessúlë was so caught up in her visual exploration that she forgot to look where she was going. Her foot got caught on a root in the forest floor and she almost fell flat on her face. Suddenly there was someone before her, placing a steadying hand on her arm to help her regain her balance. Startled, Nessúlë looked up into the eyes of a strange elf clad in differing shades of gray and silver that blended in quite well with the large trunks of the mellyrn. She froze for a moment, but when the elf smiled at her and let go of her arm her tenseness receded. Looking around cautiously she saw that their whole company was surrounded by a group of these gray-clad elves. One of them spoke up.  
  
"Hail, Lord Elrohir. We are glad indeed that you have returned to the Golden Wood."  
  
"Thank you, Haldir. I am very glad to have returned myself - and hopefully I will be able to stay a little longer than the last time."  
  
Haldir just smiled in reply. Rúmil, the elf that stood in front of Nessúlë, took this opportunity to speak himself. "We knew of your coming, Elrohir, but we do not yet know the rest of your company, nor the reason for their coming. What trickery have you employed that we should find you in the company of two respectable looking elves and," he paused and swept up Nessúlë's hand to place a courtly kiss on it, "a particularly lovely lady?"  
  
Nessúlë blushed slightly at his compliment, but didn't take it too much to heart. This elf looked jolly and carefree - no doubt he was a born flatterer.  
  
Elrohir cocked an eyebrow and replied. "My, my, you're still the lady's man I see? What would Mynarquen* think? I thought that when you found her you would leave off chasing other women."  
  
Rúmil just laughed. "She knows what a rogue I am, but she also knows that my heart is only hers. And yet, while my heart does not wander, my eyes cannot help but see and pay tribute to the true beauty and grace that stands before me - it would be ungracious."  
  
Nessúlë chuckled softly. "Well, that 'true beauty and grace' would be honored with your acquaintance, sir, for you do seem to have a merry heart indeed." Turning to Elrohir with a smile she continued, "Since you seem to have a history with these elves would you care to do the honors."  
  
Elrohir readily obliged. "May I present Nessúlë Ëarwen and her brother Lantél Tindollo of Mithlond; also their guardian Alarkelú. Their family has sailed into the West, and they come now to seek a new life with their mother's kin under the Lord and Lady's protection."  
  
Rúmil bowed low and replied, "Rúmil at your service. You have already heard the name of my brother, Haldir. He is Marchwarden of the western borders and a most reluctant bachelor. Also with us is yet another brother, Orophin, already happily married and domesticated; then Haldayúla, who is more of a lady's man than I am, and Kallindo, who is currently lovesick and moping. So you see, we are all of us entangled with the fairer sex and there is nothing for it. Yet I am sure that we can all find it in our hearts to welcome you warmly to our wood. I hope that you will not find the hospitality of LothLorien lacking in any way. Come, Kallindo and I will bring you to Caras Galadhon now. It is several leagues* from here, but if we move quickly we may arrive shortly after nightfall when the hearths are still warm the doors still open."  
  
Nessúlë smiled cheerfully up at him. He certainly did have a merry heart and a quick tongue. When he offered her his arm she did not hesitate to take it, and so they began, leading their horses, to walk deeper into the Golden Wood.  
  
With her back turned to him, Nessúlë did not perceive the sour glances that Elrohir was casting in Rúmil's direction.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Oloriel smiled at the lively conversation that was flying between the women sitting at the looms, as she turned one of the pegs on her harp ever so slightly to bring it back into proper tune. It had been quite some time since she had sat with these women as they worked and she had forgotten how very entertaining they could be, giving their tongues free reign as their hands attended to the intricate weave of the cloth.  
  
One of the older women rolled her eyes at the comment of another and then turned to Oloriel. "Come, dearest, play us another song. We need something to sooth our spirits otherwise we may all loose our good sense amidst this prattling... play!"  
  
Several other women joined in calling for a song as well, so Oloriel obliged them. As she was singing, another _elleth_ appeared in the doorway with a searching look on her face. Her eyes locked onto Oloriel, but she did not interrupt the song.  
  
When the gentle melody came to an end, and the ladies had all murmured their approval, the elleth sidled up to Oloriel and whispered something in her ear. Nodding quickly, Oloriel got up from her seat and gently rested her harp against the stool, then followed the maiden out of the weaving room and into the dappled sunshine.  
  
Oloriel breathed in deeply to try and calm her ruffled nerves. She knew that this meeting was inevitable, but she was still not quite prepared for it. As she attempted to compose her spirit, the maiden who had summoned her led her to one of the many flets that composed the complex of the Lord and Lady's dwelling. Ducking beneath some of the vines that hung lazily from the lattice-worked roof, Oloriel came up in the presence of Galadriel. The Lady was sitting in front of a stretched piece of cloth, which was set up in a very large frame to allow for the embroidering of a delicate design. The piece of material was so large, exceeding even the dimensions of the frame to drape along the ground, that it was perhaps meant to be a tapestry that would one day adorn the wall of some great library, recounting a tale of days gone by. The Lady, however, was not focused on the task before her. Instead her eyes gazed off into the distance as though she was trying to see something afar off, the needle momentarily forgotten and held hovering in mid-air.  
  
Oloriel stood quietly for some moments, wondering if she should speak or wait to be spoken to. The silence continued to reign. Finally, Oloriel grew so uncomfortable that she was about to interrupt the Lady's reverie. However, as soon as she opened her mouth Galadriel spoke.  
  
"Patience little one - there is time yet for words. Come, sit with me."  
  
Oloriel did as she was told, sitting tentatively next to Galadriel on the carved bench. Her breath caught slightly as she saw the picture that was being formed by the Lady's skilled needle.  
  
It was Elladan. And also another, very like to him in form and countenance - she supposed it to be his twin. They stood poised in battle, a raw light gleaming from their eyes. They were beautiful, and yet terrible at the same time. Oloriel's heart beat quickly as she gazed upon them. Was this the elf who had captured her heart? Although she had always been aware of his lineage, never had he seemed so lordly or so perilous to her before. She smiled softly even as confusion settled on her brow. This was the same elf who treated her with such gentleness and kindness. How could the same person be composed of such opposites? How could someone so regal and deadly be at the same time so compassionate and affectionate?  
  
Without thinking, her hand went out slowly to touch the image of his face. Only then did reality force itself back upon her. Her mind cleared as her fingers brushed over the threads - just threads, not him. She ducked her head down then and twined her fingers in her lap.  
  
Galadriel smiled down on her. "He has grown into a fine man, has he not? - The pride of his people."  
  
"Aye," Oloriel whispered softly. Then, gaining more courage, lifted her head and asked, "How can one man be so glorious? What on earth can he see in me?"  
  
The Lady laughed softly. "It is all in the eye of the beholder. Perhaps he is not quite as glorious as he seems to you now. We all of us have our faults, but sometimes love blinds us to the shortcomings of those we love. No doubt he sees you in the same light that you see him. Everything takes on a golden hue when your heart finds its home with another.  
  
Oloriel's brow furrowed slightly. "Are you saying that we are both of us deceived? That we are both caught up in some illusion that will not hold under the light of day?"  
  
"Nay, I said not so. The light of day need not destroy your love; it may perhaps strengthen it. One day you will discover something far greater than what you perceive now, for instead of loving him for his perfections, you will learn to love him regardless of his faults. And that is a wonderful thing indeed. Blessed are those who find refuge with one who sees all of their shortcomings and loves them anyway."  
  
Oloriel looked away then, through the branches of the mellyrn up into the watery blue sky. Everything seemed too surreal. That she was sitting here, speaking of love with the Lady of Light; that she was in love after so many years of detachment; that she was loved in return after so many years of loneliness. She shook her head slightly as if to clear the cobwebs out, and sighed softly. Turning back to the Lady she spoke softly. "I am honored by your concern for me. Your words are wise indeed. But, this is not the only reason you had in summoning me her, was it?" The question came out more like a statement.  
  
"No, you are right - I had another purpose in mind."  
  
Oloriel nodded then braced herself for the coming conversation.  
  
Galadriel did not speak right away. Instead she went back to her task - letting her needle glide through the shapes and forms. Oloriel watched in wonder; she had not seen such skill at work before.  
  
After several minutes Galadriel finally broke the silence. "I have heard that you do not meet with Kallindo any more? How have you kept up with your instruction these past weeks?"  
  
Oloriel looked at the wooden floor of the flet and wondered how much she should say. "I… I have gone to the archery field almost every day to practice… but I have not worked with my long knives or with the sword." Oloriel frowned slightly at the thought of her long-knives. They had been a gift from Kallindo, but she had not picked them up since the rift had formed between them.  
  
Galadriel set down her needle and sighed. "I believe I know something of the reason for this, but perhaps you can set the record straight."  
  
Oloriel grimaced. She did not feel comfortable talking about this with anyone other than Elladan. It would make her feel oddly exposed.  
  
After several minutes of silence, Galadriel stood up then and walked to the edge of the flet, looking down on the world below. "He has made some sort of declaration to you, yes?"  
  
".Aye," Oloriel finally whispered.  
  
The Lady nodded her head, but still stood with her back to the younger elleth. "You must not withhold these things from me Oloriel - I am not one to fear and I hold your allegiance. Do not defy me for such a petty issue. You hold the heart of my grandson and that is enough to procure my goodwill. Now you must trust me."  
  
Oloriel bowed her head in shame but did not reply.  
  
Galadriel turned back to her then and softened her tone as she spoke. "I will not force you to meet with Kallindo, but you must continue with your training. I will think on the matter and see if I cannot come up with an alternative. Is there any other elf that you would feel comfortable working with?"  
  
Oloriel cocked her head slightly as she analyzed the situation. Was there any other whom she felt at ease with? For several moments her mind could only draw a blank, but then it hit her. "Nimfallë." Yes, Írima's husband was skilled and gentle and patient - he would do quite nicely  
  
Galadriel inclined her head. "The husband of your friend, is he not? He is a good warrior. We shall see what we can do. You may go back to the other women now. Doubtless they have missed your songs while you have been so busy these past weeks." In parting she added, "Keep a light heart, Aiwë* {little bird}, all may yet be well."  
  
Oloriel froze mid-step. "What did you call me?"  
  
Galadriel's expression did not change, but by the glint in her eyes one could almost say that she was… amused. "It is a fitting name, no matter who gave it to you."  
  
Oloriel's looked warily up at the Lady but decided not to argue. Turning to leave yet again she murmured, "Good day, m'lady."  
  
Galadriel smiled then, and the turn of her lips spoke so many different things: sadness, joy, foresight, wisdom. With a gentle shake of her head at the ways of the young, she sat back down onto the carved, wooden bench, and gazed at her work. Then, taking up the neglected needle, she began to let the colors and the textures of the threads lead her mind to more peaceful places.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"You jest, certainly! He really did that?" Nessúlë laughed heartily as Rúmil continued to recount an embarrassing tale from Elrohir's younger days. Looking back over her shoulder she caught Elrohir's sour look and laughed harder. "Oh come now, Elrohir, you were crowing about your own devilish exploits earlier on in our trip, why so testy now?"  
  
"There's something about having control over the telling that doesn't make it quite so distasteful," Elrohir shot back grouchily. "Besides, Rúmil is just as inclined to lie as he is to tell the truth. Things hardly happened that way."  
  
"Oh no?" Rúmil inquired, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "I think that they did indeed." He leant down to whisper in Nessúlë's ear, "Just ask my brother, Orophin - he shall tell you exactly the same thing."  
  
Nessúlë laughed aloud once more. This elf was certainly entertaining. For a moment she felt a prick in her heart for Elrohir. He was a true friend, and she would never want to hurt him. But then she remembered the "friendly" torture that he had put her through during their journey, and she didn't really feel guilty any more. 'Let us have some fun with him, he will recover soon enough.'  
  
~~~  
  
Kallindo watched the pair in front of him carefully then he looked back to the elf that stood beside him. He had never met any of the_ Peredhil_* before, but he took a liking to this one. Perhaps it was because he perceived their common plight. Kallindo may have been preoccupied in heart, but he was not so wayward in mind. He recognized the glances that Elrohir was throwing the lady's way.  
  
"You know," began Kallindo softly, "The others always joke about how sodden I am in love, and that I have grown clumsy in my watch, but I still see many things. This may be too bold on my part, but.you love her, yes?"  
  
Elrohir's head jerked around to look at Kallindo. He wasn't sure how to reply to that. "I. well, won't deny that I. I like her..."  
  
Kallindo raised a slender eyebrow in disbelief, but chose not to reply.  
  
Several moments passed in silence and Kallindo thought that the conversation was over, but then suddenly Elrohir spoke up. "Did you tell her. of your love?"  
  
Kallindo's eyes dimmed slightly, but he replied. "Yes. she rejected me."  
  
Elrohir nodded gently with a thoughtful expression on his face. "I do not know how to tell her. I am a coward I suppose."  
  
Kallindo smiled sardonically. "We are all fools in the game of love - do not feel too ashamed. No man treads these waters without faltering a few times."  
  
"Aye," Elrohir agreed softly, and then did not speak again until the company reached Caras Galadhon.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"Hail, friends. It is not often that we are honored with the presence of any of our western kin, but they are always welcome here. The hospitality of the Wood is at your disposal." Lord Celeborn spoke in regal yet warm tones to the elves of Mithlond.  
  
"We are grateful for your welcome, Lord," Lantél replied.  
  
Celeborn smiled then, turning to Elrohir, spoke more lightly. "And ever is your sight a joy, child. Is peace with you and your family?" Elrohir came up to his grandfather and embraced him, beginning to recount the news from home.  
  
Meanwhile, Galadriel attended to the strangers. "You have journeyed far; no doubt you are both tired and hungry. However, while I bid you to partake of refreshment, I would also ask you to wait with us here and not yet retire. I knew of your coming and have summoned your kin to welcome you." As she spoke, servants brought in several trays of food to set on a table to the left of where the guests were being received.  
  
Nessúlë smiled in return. "Thank you, Lady. We have yet some strength in us and are eager to meet with my mother's kin."  
  
Rúmil and Kallindo were about to depart when Galadriel stopped them. "Nay, do not be so hasty, guardsmen - you are welcome as well. Your vigilance is worthy of reward. Come eat with us."  
  
Rúmil hesitated. "Your offer is most gracious, but my heart yearns to see Mynarquen. However, I am sure that Kallindo would enjoy the repast - he has no one to make haste for." Rúmil smirked and cast and laughing look Kallindo's way. Kallindo just arched an eyebrow at this not-so-veiled jibe at his bachelorhood, but did not protest since the food and drink did indeed look appetizing.  
  
Galadriel excused Rúmil, and the rest of the company took some food and settled down into quiet conversation.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"When was the last time you saw them?" Oloriel asked eagerly. She had been spending a leisurely evening with Írima and her family when the summons had been received. Being eager to welcome the new arrivals herself, she had come along as well.  
  
Írima sighed. "Alas, it has been too long. Nessúlë was still a young girl when my sister left with her husband to make the journey to Mithlond. Lantél was only a babe in arms then. He will not remember me."  
  
Oloriel gasped slightly. "Why, that must be at least two thousand years, if what I remember about their ages are correct. How you must have missed them."  
  
"Aye, it is a long time. I certainly missed having my sister at my own wedding." Írima cast a loving glance at Nimfallë, who was carrying the sleeping Almarië in his arm.  
  
"You will see her again one day, love." Nimfallë assured her.  
  
"Aye, but I am glad that I will not have to wait so long to see my niece and nephew. How they must have grown - I probably won't recognize them at all!"  
  
They soon arrived at the vast talan of the Lord and Lady and were announced by a servant. Írima and Nimfallë were in front of Oloriel, and as they bowed respectfully to Galadriel and Celeborn, Oloriel caught a glimpse of the company within. Her eyes were quickly drawn to Elrohir. Her breath caught quickly and for a moment her heart sped up. But she brutally yanked her emotions back to reality, reminding herself that this must simply be Elladan's twin brother. And yet, that was something. Meeting one of Elladan's siblings was nerve wracking in itself - what if she didn't make a good impression?  
  
The joyful introductions were being made as Oloriel continued to scan the room. Her eyes rested on a lovely, smiling, dark-haired elleth, and then an elf who appeared to be near kin of the maiden. There was another elf as well and then. Oloriel's mind froze suddenly. Her eyes locked onto Kallindo and both of them visibly paled.  
  
"…And this is my close friend, Oloriel," the voice of Írima began to register in Oloriel's mind, "She helps with our child sometime; she was with us when we received the summons and was eager to meet you."  
  
With strength she did not know she possessed, Oloriel tore her gaze away from Kallindo and tried to focus her mind back on the company at hand. Unfortunately, her control was not strengthened as she heard Elrohir gasp softly and send a piercing glance her way. "Oloriel?" he inquired.  
  
She stood motionless for a fraction of a second and then dipped into a curtsy. "Aye, it is an honor to finally meet Írima's kin. and you, my lord."  
  
Elrohir's face split into an enormous smile. "The honor is all mine. I have longed to meet you, but did not expect to do so until the morning, at least. My brother sends his love. I'm sure that it nearly broke his heart to have to give up seeing you."  
  
Oloriel's face paled slightly, and then a rosy hue began to creep up her cheeks. The whole room froze. Kallindo's face went pure white and a strange spark ignited in his eyes, Nessúlë cocked her head in curiosity, Lantél raised a questioning eyebrow, Nimfallë momentarily ignored the fussing of his infant child, and Írima crossed her arms across her chest and gave Oloriel a look that read, "I knew you were hiding something." The only people who didn't seem to be affected were Galadriel, Celeborn, and Alarkelú. The first two, because it wasn't a surprise to them, and the last because he had seen too many seasons to be so easily surprised.  
  
Silence reigned.  
  
Elrohir looked around at everyone with a quizzical expression. "What?" he finally asked. Nessúlë was the first to reply. She shrugged her shoulders lightly, as if to indicate that, after all, the affair really wasn't any of her business, and said, "Nothing - I suppose that we are all just a little tired. We have been offered guest flets tonight, aunt, but I should like to come and visit you in the morning. Perhaps you could show us where you live?"  
  
Írima nodded her head slowly then turned to her niece with a smile. "Yes, we shall." She cast one more quick, searching glance at Oloriel and then rested her hand on the arm of her husband as they exited the talan. Elrohir declared that he would stay behind, and so bid the others goodnight. Oloriel stayed rooted in her current position, not quite sure what to do. Kallindo remained also, simply staring at her with the oddest look in his eyes.  
  
Elrohir turned back to Oloriel with a smile. "Shall I walk you home? I am anxious to know you better."  
  
Oloriel replied with a shaky smile, but did not have time to form a verbal response before Kallindo cut her off.  
  
"What?!" he spat out.  
  
Oloriel closed her eyes and tried to breathe steadily. Elrohir gazed at Kallindo with a confused expression.  
  
"What call do have to know her better?" Kallindo blurted out. "Few indeed have been given that privilege and it has been dearly won! What are you to her, and who is this upstart of a brother?" Elrohir stiffened visibly at these words, but Kallindo did not heed the warning sign. "How does he know her? What right does he have -" He was cut off then by Elrohir's strong voice.  
  
"What exactly are you implying?" He bit out the words slowly, trying to remain calm.  
  
Kallindo did not answer (not really knowing himself), but instead stood their fuming, and throwing daggers with his eyes. All he knew was that he didn't like another elf acting in such a "friendly" way toward Oloriel.  
  
The tension in the air might have grown until the trees caught fire if Celeborn had not intervened. "Enough, Kallindo," he said gently, "Elrohir has no part in your quarrel, or your hurt. Do not be foolish."  
  
Kallindo flinched at the words and then, several long moments later, stormed out of the talan.  
  
Elrohir relaxed and then turned to Oloriel with a confused look, which turned into a concerned one when caught sight of her pale face. "Lady Oloriel, are you alright? What was that all about?"  
  
Oloriel looked up into his eyes and sighed quietly. "It was about a broken heart."  
  
Elrohir was about to ask for clarification when it suddenly dawned on him. "You were the maiden… the one that rejected him?" Oloriel pursued her lips and looked away.  
  
"Please, not tonight Lord Elrohir, I am weary of thinking on it already. Let us be merry. I have so much that I would like to ask you."  
  
He hesitated for a moment, but then nodded in agreement. "Very well… shall we?" He offered her his arm, and then, bidding farewell to his grandparents, led Oloriel out into the star-studded night.  
  
***  
  
1. mellyrn = plural of "mallorn" - the golden trees of Lorien  
  
2. Get it, get it? Mynarquen just won Rúmil in the "Win a Random Cute Elf" raffle. = )  
  
3. I know that it's at least several miles between the western border and Caras Galadhon. I didn't really want to work out all the details, though, so let your imagination run wild.  
  
4. peredhil = plural of "peredhel": half-elf. Elrond and his brother, Elros, were known as the peredhil b/c of their human and Maia ancestry. Elrond's surname is Peredhel.

  
  
Things that you might have forgotten or that you might want to know:  
  
Aiwë: Kallindo's nickname for Oloriel, "small bird"  
  
Nessúlë Ëarwen: "young spirit/ sea maiden"  
  
Lantél Tindollo: "falling star/ silver cliff"  
  
Nimfallë: "white foam"  
  
Almárië: "be blessed"  
  
elleth: "she-elf"  
  
***boxes of e-brownies for everyone who reviews***  
  
**Next chapter there will be another "Wina Random Cute Elf" Raffle. keep your fingers crossed!**  
  
~Iluvien~


	24. Understanding and Confusion

Things you need to know about this story...

1.) Elven dreams are very realistic

2.) Elves shouldn't normally meet *real* people along the Olórë Mallë (Path of Dreams)... but something happens in this story that is not normal

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

'*' signals a footnote

****

Important A/N: Stay tuned for some important comments after this chapter… please… I just realized that I made a mistake in chapter 16: A Revelation. I put that little explanation of what Oloriel saw in the mirror at the bottom of the chapter and I said that the little scene with Oloriel walking along a parapet and the glimpse of her and Elladan that followed was at Helm's Deep. I've come to the decision that the two of them will not be at Helm's Deep after all. So, you can either 1.) Pretend that the "mountain fortress" is really a part of Minas Tirith, or 2.) Remember the fact that the mirror shows what "may" be and just accept that this "possible" incident doesn't actually occur.

________________________

Chapter 24.) Understanding and Confusion

***

__

Only themselves understand themselves, and the like of themselves, 

As Souls only understand Souls.

- Walt Whitman

***

Recap: Same night as last chapter. Elrohir is walking Oloriel back to her flet.

Elrohir smiled broadly as he listened to Oloriel's cheerful laughter. A tense aura had hung in the air during the first few minutes of their walk, but thankfully it had not lasted too long. This, however, was the first time that Elrohir had been able to make Oloriel laugh. She couldn't help it, really, not after what Elrohir had told her about Elladan's first attempts at romance. He had been only 73* years old at the time, and had tried to dazzle a young _elleth _by showing her a small frog that he had caught. Unfortunately she had not been very impressed. Somehow, the frog managed to escape Elladan's hold and then get lost in the folds of the little girl's dress, causing a bout of high-pitched hysterics. 

"I can't believe he did that!" Oloriel exclaimed, as she suppressed the remaining vestiges of her mirth. "Didn't he know that little _elleths _do not like frogs nearly so well as little _ellons_?"

Elrohir smirked cockily. "He's never been very wise when it comes to dealing with females… but don't worry, I've been giving him a few pointers."

Oloriel just stared at him bemusedly. Then, a very devilish thought popped into her head. "And you _are_ wise when it comes to dealing with females?" she questioned with a raised eyebrow, "I find that rather hard to believe."

Elrohir gasped in mock hurt. "Why? Don't you think I've done a marvelous job with Elladan? …He hasn't tried to give you any frogs, now has he? I keep trying to break him of that habit…"

Oloriel chuckled again. "No, indeed he has not. But still, if you were such a lady's man I would think that you, of all people, could recognize when a certain _elleth _is yearning for your company. "

A puzzled look came over Elrohir's face. "What do you mean?"

Oloriel tried to reply very casually. "Perhaps it isn't anything, but… Nessúlë seemed rather disappointed when you chose to stay behind with me, instead of walking her back to her flet."

A spark lit up in Elrohir's eye momentarily, but then it receded as the gears in his brain began to turn. "You've been speaking to Elladan, haven't you?"

Putting on the most innocent and dewy-eyed expressions she could muster, Oloriel looked up at Elrohir and replied. "What? No, certainly not. Do you think I would need him to tell me what I can see so plainly for myself."

Elrohir came to a halt. His eyes shifted about as though he was trying to understand something. He cast another suspicious glance at Oloriel, but this time there was also a bit of confusion swirling around in his gaze as well. Oloriel tried desperately not to let her face show anything that would give away her little scheme. If she had been forced to remain much longer she probably would have cracked, but fortunately she realized then that her flet was just a few yards away. Before Elrohir could detain her, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek, bade him goodnight, and made a swift retreat along the aerial walkway that they had been standing on and into the safety of her rooms. 

Elrohir just stood rooted to the boards beneath him, looking very much as though he wanted to scratch his head in confusion. And, undoubtedly, if he had not been a graceful, noble elf, he would have.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oloriel had gone to bed with a rather light and carefree heart, but it did not remain so. Her mind would not give her peace. After numerous failed attempts at repose she gave up, rolled onto her back with a sigh of frustration, and stared blankly up at the ceiling of her flet. She simply couldn't fall asleep. She had been trying to do so for over an hour now but weariness absolutely refused to take her. This felt extremely odd; usually she could call her mind in and out of sleep with relative ease, and ever since her connection with Elladan had formed, she was generally very eager to leave the waking world behind.

Her brain was churning over the events of the evening, or more particularly, over a certain event involving an elf named Kallindo. She had not wanted him to find out the way that he did. Of a truth, she wasn't quite sure how she _had _wanted him to find out, but she was certain that this way wasn't it. And to make things even more complicated, Kallindo hadn't even really found out what _was_ going on, he had just been given a hint of it. Oloriel shuddered softly as she realized this. If Kallindo were this upset over words that could be interpreted many different, and possibly innocuous, ways, how in all of Arda would he react when he knew the actual truth of the matter?

Oloriel had seen such pain in his eyes when he looked at her, like someone who had just had the world ripped out from under their feet. 'And I have done this to him!' she thought frantically. She chided herself immediately thereafter, telling herself that, in fact, she wasn't to blame for Kallindo's condition. But, unfortunately, this didn't really make her feel any better. 

With restless energy Oloriel sprang up from her bed and walked onto the small balcony that opened from her room. The gentle light of the moon had clothed the boughs of the _mellyrn _insilvery gossamer veils. Every few moments the blink of a firefly would illuminate in the soft, shimmering air. A timorous breeze would occasionally invite the leaves to dance, and then sift through her hair in gentle caresses. All was floating in dreamy peacefulness... all, that is, except for Oloriel. She could no longer bear the idea that she had hurt her friend - him who had been so kind to her in the past.

Oloriel gripped the rail firmly, and then pushed off of it with determination. Grabbing her cloak, she exited her flet and descended to the forest floor. Something had to be done.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kallindo sat slouched over in one of his chairs, his elbows resting on his knees, and his face buried in his hands. He too had suffered sleeplessness this night. No matter how much he tried to, he could not resolves his emotions. His spirit yearned for something it could not have, and strove violently against the chains that kept him from reaching out and taking hold of his desired treasure. In some ways he wished that he had never met Oloriel, for now that he had known her the world seemed a dreary place indeed if he could not have her as his own. 

As he sat thus in melancholy reflection, a small pebble arched its way through the sky and landed with a sharp plunk on the door to his flet. Kallindo ignored the sound, but when it was repeated he looked up and gazed around the room in confusion. A third small stone struck his door as he stood up slowly to approach the source of the disturbance. There it was again, another quick tap on the outside of his flet. Reaching out slowly to grasp the handle of his door, Kallindo took a soft breath and then swung the door open quickly. Right as he did so, another pebble came soaring through the trees. Unfortunately, since the door was removed from its path, the little stone landed squarely between Kallindo's eyebrows, causing him to flinch backward slightly.

A soft yelp came from below. Kalindo rubbed the tender spot on his forehead in aggravation and stepped fully out of his doorway to look below. A figure stood some ways from the base of his tree, hooded and cloaked, with a hand covering their mouth in surprise. 

Kallindo glared down at the concealed shape and hissed out into the quiet night, "What in Ulmo's* name do you want!" The figure did not speak, but merely lowered their hand then beckoned to him silently to follow. For a few moments, Kallindo stood in hesitation, but when the mysterious individual turned and started walking off into the forest, he propelled himself into motion and descended from his flet, his curiosity getting the better of him.

~~~ 

"Sir, I really must protest. Either tell me why you have called me out here in the deep hours of the night – and it had better be good, I warn you – or allow me to return to the warmth of my home."

A soft chuckle filtered out from beneath the heavy material of the enigma's cloak. Turning around to face Kallindo, the faceless voice muttered. "First of all, I am not a 'sir', secondly, you will just have to be patient – we are almost there."

Kallindo's ears perked up when he heard that voice. "Oloriel?"

In a spilt second the hooded figure had dashed off beneath the trees. Kallindo let out a confused and frustrated sigh, then set off after her, his heart beating erratically

In several moments he found himself skidding to a halt in front of the shadowed form. He watched silently as two small hands reached up out of the folds of the cloak and lowered the hood. His suspicions were confirmed. Oloriel's bright locks glowed softly in the silver moonlight, cascading down her back now that they were loosed from the constraining bounds of the hood

She lifted her soft, sympathetic, and unintentionally alluring eyes up to meet Kallindo's, but did not speak. For several moments they just stared at one another. Finally, Kallindo walked slowly up to a tree nearby and slouched down against it. Heaving a weary sigh, he murmured, "Why do you torture me so, Aiwë? What do you want from me?"

Oloriel's face settled into a frown as she walked over to where Kallindo sat. Kneeling down in front of him she bowed her head and spoke. "I- I want…" she paused as if searching for the right words. "…I want my old Kallindo back… I don't want to hurt you any more."

Raising his head up to the stars, Kallindo muttered, "I don't see how that will be possible." Silence reigned for several moments then, until he brought his gaze sharply down to capture hers and continued, "I love you, Aiwë… I _want_ you… and do you know what else I want? I want you to want me. But you don't," he finished bitterly, "…you won't."

A small gasp escaped Oloriel as she tried to escape the intensity of his eyes. "No, Kallindo… it's not… I can't. You have to understand that I can't! I am so sorry that I have hurt you… I wanted you to be happy, but… but I just can't…"

Fire sprang up in Kallindo's eyes. He lurched forward off the tree, and captured Oloriel's face in his hands. "You won't!" he bit out fiercely, bringing his face so close to Oloriel that she could feel his ragged breaths. "You wouldn't…you wouldn't even give me a chance!" His fingers pressed against her temples with a desperate pressure. She tried to look away but he forced her to face him, pulling her forehead against his. "All I wanted was a chance!" he hissed, "Was that too much to ask for?"

Tears sprang up in Oloriel's eyes. She had never seen Kallindo act so boldly, with her or with anyone else. She had been prepared to face a forlorn Kallindo, but not such an intensely desperate one. All of her courage seemed to flee under the influence of his passionate gaze. Her body crumpled beneath the fierce pressure, collapsing against Kallindo's chest. Shudders ran up and down her form as she whispered frantically, "Please, Kallindo… please stop… you're frightening me." 

The fire was quenched in Kallindo's eyes as though a deluge of water had been released from the heavens and sent crashing down onto the very flames of his spirit. He looked weakly down at the shivering body against him and bowed his head in shame. He slowly brought his arms up around Oloriel, drawing her more snugly to him. Rocking her gently back and forth he whispered words of comfort and apology in her delicate, pointed ear, hoping against hope that she would at least forgive him.

"_Nîron, aewtithen nín, nîron…_{I am sorry, my small bird, I am sorry…}" he murmured to her as he rested his cheek against her hair. Oloriel had slowly begun to calm down and now reposed willingly in his arms. She nodded her head in a tired manner, acknowledging and accepting his apology. For several more moments she simply let him hold her, trying to muster the energy to do what must still yet be done.

Slowly she pushed her self off of him, rolling back on her heels to sit squarely, though rather ungracefully, on the ground. She brought her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, and then tilted her head back to gaze for a few moments at the stars. "Kallindo, I have to tell you something."

The elf stiffened and cast a searching glance her way. "This is about Elrohir, isn't it?" he slowly inquired. 

"Yes – I mean, no – well, sort of…. It's about his brother, Elladan."

Kallindo nodded softly as if he understood. Of course, he didn't understand at all, but after his shocking behavior he was trying to be helpful.

Oloriel bit her lower lip as she contemplated just how she would say this. "Do you remember, Kallindo, when I told you about how my dreams had lost their darkness? How I dreamed that an elf had come to take the storms away?"

Kallindo flinched slightly. He certainly remembered. At the time he had thought that perhaps her dreams heralded the coming of spring to her heart, that just maybe they told of a readiness for love and reliance upon others. But he had been wrong. Certainly she had grown warmer, that much was evident; he had felt the transformation and reveled in it. But somehow the frost had not fully receded from her spirit – she still felt herself incapable of loving… or so he thought. 

"Yes, I remember," he finally murmured.

"Well," Oloriel began, "Um… the elf, he was… uh… he wasn't a dream."

Kallindo just looked at Oloriel for a few moments with deeply furrowed brow. "What do you mean?"

"The elf was real. He was Elladan… The Valar have blessed us with this connection. We… we share our dreams with each other. Ever since he came to me then, our paths on the _Olórë Mallë _have been merged, and I… I have gotten to know him."

Oloriel watched as Kallindo shook his head in a daze. He looked at her with a bewildered expression as he spoke. "I don't think I understand."

Taking in one last shaky breath to strengthen her equally shaky voice, Oloriel tried to explain, "Elladan and I are linked through our dreams. It is not unlike what some Eldar have experienced before, but usually that is only between spouses, and it is generally not this strong. It is a gift for a purpose, or so Galadriel has said, but even she cannot tell what that purpose might be."

Kallindo's eyes clouded slightly when she said the word 'spouses.' He shifted uncomfortably. Galadriel; strange dreams; high callings, these things meant nothing to him unless… "You must have become rather… close with lord Elladan, you even speak of him by his given name." Kallindo stared blankly at the ground, not quite sure where his own thoughts were leading them.

On impulse, Oloriel reached out her hand and tilted Kallindo's chin up so that she was looking him gently but firmly in the eyes as she spoke. "Yes, Kallindo, we have become close – very close… I love him. He is my soul's home and has filled me with life again. That is why I cannot be yours. My heart has been claimed by another."

Blood pumped loudly in Kallindo's ears as he sagged breathlessly against the tree. A dull ache coursed through his body as he let her words sink in. She did love, just not him; she had learned to love, but he had not been the teacher. Fire burst through his veins. His first impulse was to curse all the powers above the earth and below it, but try as he may, the accusations stuck fast in his throat. His heart continued beating at an incredible rate for some time, his breaths coming short and labored. After several long moments the first wave of his desperation finally began to recede. 

He looked up at Oloriel and allowed his mind to wander as he took in the depths of her eyes. He remembered how she had been before this dream elf of hers came: quiet, adrift, lonely, cool, even sad. But now, well, she was so different now. A spark that had lain dormant in her for centuries was kindled anew. At one time he had thought perhaps that his actions were the cause of this metamorphosis, but now he realized bitterly that he had only been a beneficiary of her new vitality. After centuries of off-and-on coaxing, he had failed utterly to wake up her slumbering spirit, but what he had failed to do in all those many long years, this son of Elrond had done in a mere few months. What did that mean? Could it be Elladan was meant to have what he had not been able to claim? His heart rebelled at this thought, and yet, if he truly loved her how could he wish that this light, this life had not come to her? 

Kallindo shook his head wearily. This was it. This was the final decision. Would he cling to his heart's desire and fade from this world or would he embrace life with all its hopes and cares? Would he take his sorrow with him to the Halls of Mandos* in hopes that the pain would slowly grow numb with the passing of millennia or would he let it go and take up a different burden?

Time seemed to stand still around him. He could see Oloriel's lips moving, but the words she spoke did not register in his mind. Everything around him seemed to be swirling to a point, converging on this single moment in time. His head was spinning, the ringing in his ears penetrating into his mind like sharp, piercing tentacles. To Kallindo, it seemed as though the whole of life might stop in that moment and simply cease to exist. But then, just as reality was on the verge of collapsing in on him, a very beautiful, very natural thing happened.

You see, there is something about the name of an elf that is quite extraordinary – it is always given with care and can influence the destiny of its bearer or help to shape what he or she will become. And in this moment, at one of the many crossroads of his life, Kallindo's identity shone forth, and he lived up to the promise of his name. He truly was a noble heart, and in the end, he could not have been anything else. 

He realized then, with utmost clarity, as he sat defeated beneath the moon and stars and golden leaves of Lorien, that love does not mean getting what you want, but giving what you can. It means doing what you have to for the person you love, even when it's the last thing you want to do and even when it brings you immeasurable pain. That is really what makes love noble in end – that is what makes it so pure: it is the one underlying impulse that drives us to forsake the dull, shrinking landscape of our own self-centered universe and venture out into the wide open plains of the cosmos. It is a call to life. And so, answering that call, Kallindo let go, silently blessed Oloriel, and resigned his fate to the will of the Valar, taking life in whatever form it was given to him. He would be content because his love was content. And if he could do nothing else for her, be nothing else to her, he could at least give her this gift of happiness: that she would not be the cause of his death. For her sake he would live; for her sake he would give her up.

Gradually the world came back into focus. Oloriel was wide-eyed with fear. While it had not seemed very long to Kallindo, he had been in his dazed state for almost ten minutes now. Oloriel had not been able to get a response from him, and she had feared for his life right then and there.

With painful slowness Kallindo reached out to gently press Oloriel's hand, giving her a small smile along with his friendly gesture. She let out a breath she had been holding at these promising signs of life.

"You had me scared there for a while," Oloriel stated earnestly. "Don't ever do that to me again."

Kallindo couldn't help but smile at her commanding tone, but he was all seriousness when he finally made his reply. "I vow that I will not, Aiwë. Do not fear for me, I shall not make you suffer by falling to grief. I release you from my own expectations – go to him."

The _elleth _before him seemed utterly shocked by what she had just heard. But finally the words registered, and with a face-splitting grin, she exuberantly grasped his shoulders (not sure if it would be appropriate to hug him at this time), gave them a hardy squeeze and half laughed, half sobbed out, "_Hannon lle… hannon lle, Kallindo_ {Thank you… thank you, Kallindo}."

Kallindo gave her a shaky smile in reply. He was glad that he had made her happy.

~~~

Somehow Oloriel kept Kallindo talking with her for quite some time after their emotional encounter, despite his reluctance. She had missed her friend. There were some levels that they had never reached in their relationship, but aside from Írima, he was still one of the closest friends she had and very valuable to her. 

After quite a bit of aimless conversation that served mainly to get them comfortable with each other again, Oloriel got up from where they sat and walked to the other side of the clearing. She had hidden her long knives in a bush there, and had also stashed away two swords. As a peace offering of sorts she had planned on inviting Kallindo to spar with her. It was her way of trying to symbolically repair the breach. The blades that Kallindo had given her had not been used since his first declaration of love, and now she felt that it was time to make them sing again. 

Kallindo accepted, even though he still felt rather heart-weary and uncomfortable. He didn't feel up to refusing Oloriel that night. The experience proved to be a good one in the end. He and Oloriel were certainly most at home with each other when they were sparring.

It was just a couple of hours before dawn when the two of them finally called it quits. Kallindo gave her a few final pointers on her technique, and then was about to leave. Before he could accomplish this feat, however, Oloriel called him back.

"I was just thinking… if there is no longer this issue between us, would it be impossible to take up training again? I know that Lady Galadriel was going to ask Nimfallë to help me, but if you are still up to it I don't see why we couldn't try it out again…" She looked up at him with a questioning gaze. She thought that perhaps he would appreciate the gesture she was making. She wasn't quite prepared for his answer.

"No." Kallindo replied bluntly, shaking his head in emphasis. In his mind he was marveling at Oloriel's naiveté. He may have resolved to give her up, but did she think that this "issue" had just disappeared? Did she not know that the pain was still there and would be so for a long while? He sighed softly as he took in her slightly baffled expression. "Aiwë, the pain is still too fresh for me. I could not… I could not bear to be near you so often. Please, do not ask is of me, I need some time."

Understanding dawned in Oloriel's eyes. "Oh… oh I did not think, I mean… I am sorry."

Kallindo just shook his head softly. "No need. _Mae aur, Aiwë _{Good morning, Aiwë}."

And with that, he was gone. Oloriel spent the rest of the dark hours thinking about and analyzing the last few bewildering hours of her life.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oloriel knelt down by the small stream at the foot of her tree with a wooden bowl, spoon, and knife in hand. She had feasted on porridge with berries and a slice of buttered bread for breakfast, and now she was rinsing out her utensils before she went to see Írima and the new arrivals. She was just finishing up her task when she felt the insistent presence of Elladan in her mind.

__

//Where were you last night?// he asked anxiously. Of course, he was fairly sure that if Oloriel had been truly unwell he would have felt it, but that still didn't keep him from worrying a little when she had not arrived the night before.

__

//Visiting with a friend.//

//_All night! //_

Oloriel chuckled, _//Well, most of it, anyway. We had a lot to talk about, and then I had some thinking to do.//_

She could feel Elladan's sigh course through her. He was desperately trying to be reasonable and "non-clingy", but he found this task to be incredibly hard. He only got to see Oloriel for the few precious hours that he spent in sleep, and being an elf, that was not an incredibly long time. Consequently, he was jealous of every moment that he got to spend with her.

__

//Who were you with?// he questioned, not able to help himself.

There was a pause.

__

//Oloriel? …What is it?//

//Kallindo,// she finally murmured. //_I was with Kallindo. Your brother arrived last night and said something that began to unearth our little secret. I needed to make Kallindo understand.//_

//And it took you all night? I thought… I thought you felt uncomfortable around him.//

Oloriel began to climb back up to her flet as she replied. _//I did, but I think that we have come to an understanding of sorts and, well… it was actually nice to talk with him again – it has been so long.// _

//Nice?// Elladan was unable to keep the note of apprehension out of his voice.

Oloriel smiled slyly. _//You're not jealous, are you, meleth nín?//_

//No!// Elladan blurted_._

The answer came a little too quickly and bluntly to quell Oloriel's suspicion. She laughed merrily. _//Oh yes you are. I can feel it! You're afraid that I might come to find Kallindo's company a little bit more than nice, and that you'll be too far away to stop it from happening.//_

Elladan furrowed his brow slightly and muttered, _//You can't pin this one on me – I never said it. I'm not jealous! …After all,// _he continued, sending a wave of playfulness through their connection, _//who could possibly compete with me?//_

Oloriel snorted in a rather unladylike fashion then, grabbing a light cloak from her closet, replied. _//Apparently your brother! He modestly informed me last night that he as a lady-charmer of the highest quality …But really, Elladan, don't act like I'm accusing you of some great infraction. As long as you don't do anything rash, I think it's rather adorable when you're jealous.//_

Elladan rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless. On a more serious note he whispered, _//I don't think I could bear to loose you – whether it be to someone else or no.//_

Oloriel finished securing the clasp on her mantle and then gathered the courage to murmur back softly, _//Then I suppose that someday you'll just have to come and claim me…//_

Elladan's heart quickened slightly. _//Is that an official invitation?//_

Making her way from her flet and out into the morning sunshine, Oloriel breathed in the cool morning air and replied coquettishly, _//Come, lord of Imladris.// _She laughed merrily as their link, as if by providence, was at that moment broken, giving her with the last word and leaving Elladan with a spinning heart and mind.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oloriel cast a sly glance at Elrohir and Nessúlë as they stood by a window talking. She had just gone over to the crib to pick up Almárië and as she stood rocking the elfling gently in her arms she made use of the opportunity to spy on the unsuspecting pair. Írima was tidying up the small kitchen in the other room, and Alarkelú and Lantél had gone to explore their new home, so it was just the four of them, baby included, that occupied the sitting area. And by the looks of it, Elrohir and Nessúlë had forgotten that even she was there and the child were there. 

Almárië giggled as she played with the long golden strands of Oloriel's hair. Unfortunately, her touch was not always the most gentle, and her rather jerky tugging caused Oloriel to direct her attention away from the window and back to the little bundle in her arms. Giving the child one last squeeze, she extracted her hair from the darling's vice grip and set her back down into the crib, adding a few toys as well for the elfling to play with. With this task accomplished she turned and walked slowly over to the window.

As Oloriel approached she saw Nessúlë slap Elrohir playfully on the arm for something he had said. The elf in questioned just shook his head at her, and in doing so caught Oloriel's eye.

"I am glad that you could join us this morning, Lady Oloriel. I just wish that we had not eaten all of the breakfast before you came."

Oloriel smiled up at him. "No worries, I ate earlier. Knowing Írima as well as I do I could predict that she would try to serve up a feast for everyone that came and I did not want to add to her burden."

"It was a feast, indeed," Nessúlë interjected. "I don't think I have ever eaten that much for breakfast in my life, but I simply couldn't refuse – she is a wonderful cook. I wonder where she got it from, for I certainly did not inherit any such culinary talent."

"Ah, but I think you did inherit other things," Oloriel replied. "Did I hear you mention that you have skill with the sword?"

"Aye," the other _elleth _replied modestly, "I do have some experience with it. Certainly more than with the bow – I do not think that I will ever truly master that art."

A light-bulb flashed on in Oloriel's mind. "I myself am more talented with the bow than with the sword, perhaps we could work together since you will be staying here… and lord Elrohir," she continued with a look that tried to portray sudden realization, "Why, you are more skilled than either of us I am sure. You were just asking what we should do with this day a few minutes ago. Why don't you help us get started; I'm sure that you have much valuable wisdom to impart." 

Elrohir stiffened slightly. There was that odd look in Oloriel's eyes again that he could not quite decipher. She was up to something. But right now there was no time to contemplate the issue. He did not want to appear rude by hesitating at such a simple, innocent request, and quiet frankly he would have taken almost any excuse to spend more time with Nessúlë, even though he was not quite ready to admit why. "I am not at all opposed to such a venture," he acquiesced, "However, I do need to speak with my grandparents before the morning is out. Why do not I meet you at the South Field after lunch?"

Oloriel looked to Nessúlë, who nodded her head agreeably, then replied with a smile, "That sounds lovely. It will give me some time to show Nessúlë around the Wood."

"Alright, I will see you then." With that Elrohir inclined his head toward the two ladies and departed the flet.

Oloriel tried her best to hide a smirk. Today was going to be a good day.

*** 

1. I really don't know enough about Elven maturation to judge ages very well. I know that an elf would stay in childhood for much longer than a human wood. In this instance, imagine that Elladan was about eight years old in human terms.

2. Ulmo is one of the Valar. He is the lord of waters.

3. Place of the after-life

Things to Know:

Oloriel: "dream daughter"

Kallindo: "noble heart"

Aiwë: "small bird" – Kallindo's nickname for Oloriel

ellon: I believe that this is the male version of 'elleth' – so basically it means "male/he elf" 

- all other translations can be found in previous chapters

__

Nîron, aewtithen nín, nîron: "I-am-weeping, bird-little my, I-am-weeping" – I wasn't satisfied with the Gray Company's version of 'I am sorry' (Amin Hiraetha), so I just made up my own version. It doesn't mean exactly what I have translated it to mean, but as far as I can discern, it's at least real Tolkien Elvish. 

__

Hannon lle: "Thank you" – up until now I have used _Diola lle_, but again, I do not have a lot of confidence in the Gray Company, which is the only place that I can find a record of "Diola: thank"

__

Mae aur: "good morning" 

Author Notes: I just realized that I made a mistake in chapter 16: A Revelation. I put that little explanation of what Oloriel saw in the mirror at the bottom of the chapter and I said that the little scene with Oloriel walking along a parapet and the glimpse of her and Elladan that followed was at Helm's Deep. I've come to the decision that the two of them will not be at Helm's Deep after all. So, you can either 1.) Pretend that the "mountain fortress" is really a part of Minas Tirith, or 2.) Remember the fact that the mirror shows what "may" be and just accept that this "possible" incident doesn't actually occur. This is in answer to a question that Mrs. Ekeena Greenleaf asked (btw, this would have been easier to answer if you left your e-mail address ^_~): You asked about how the orcs could have gotten so close to Imladris (in ch. 21) without the guards seeing them. Well, it might help to know that they weren't actually within the borders of Imladris yet. I'm pretty sure I mentioned that they were about an hour away from the borders. This being said, I can still understand how their could be some doubt on this issue. Wouldn't the elves have heard something? Wouldn't Elrond have had some fuzzy ticklish feeling? The only thing I can say to this is that I needed some situation which would cause Elladan to go back – it's that simple. So just try not to think about it too much ^_~ This is concerning a comment that The Rings Are Mine (who happens to have a cool screen name) made: I can accept the possibility that my elves have an overly youthful air about them. After all, three thousand years is still three thousand year, even if you're immortal. I suppose that I've always viewed that age-range of the twins and Arwen and Oloriel as being the "younger generation". After all, Arwen is usually thought to be one of the youngest elves. In this sense I can't help but put them in relation to the older elves, and create a distinction. I'm sure that the distinction could be made with greater finesse, but what can I say, I am but a humble college freshman who is trying her best to spread a little joy – I claim no exceptional talent. Now, the last sentence of your review also brought in the physical aspect of their relationship. On this issue I am less inclined to acquiesce. As far as I can tell Elves were very conservative about all of this. But, again, I am not perfect, nor do I have exhaustive knowledge of Tolkien's history. I appreciate your thoughtful comments On the issue of Mary Sues (to R?????): I admit it, and I've always been willing to admit that my OC was a borderline Mary Sue. I like to think that she is an exalted Mary Sue, but that's about as far as I can go. I cam okay with this. A lot of my favorite stories are about decent Mary Sues, and a lot of the non Mary Sue stories are just dark and depressing. I admire the author that can walk the line between the two, but I will not make a judgement on my own writing in this case. Judge how you will. You say that Oloriel is too whinny? Perhaps, but maybe she will gain a little more confidence and maturity on this journey. As far as the author-reviewer relationship goes all I can say is that to write for the pleasure of my audience is fine, to sacrifice good writing for my audience is bad – I have never written anything that I thought was deficient merely to get more reviews. I blame any weakness in my story wholly on my own less-than-perfect writing skills. 

That's all folks…

~Iluvien~


	25. The Eye of the Storm

Things you need to know about this story...

1.) Elven dreams are very realistic

2.) Elves shouldn't normally meet *real* people along the Olórë Mallë (Path of Dreams)... but something happens in this story that is not normal

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

'*' signals a footnote

****

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long. I had relatives to deal with at Thanksgiving and then I had a week before finals that was crazy and then I had the week of finals. Life is hectic. Thankfully, Christmas break is here and I hope to be more productive on this story.

__________________________________

Chapter 25.) The Eye of the Storm 

***

__

To drift and dream like a lazy stream  
And walk barefoot across sunshine days.   
- James Kavanaugh

***

Recap: The party from Imladris arrived in LothLorien the night before. Oloriel is taking Nessúlë on a tour before they meet Elrohir at the South Field to practice. Oloriel is scheming up ways to get Nessúlë and Elrohir together.

The silent trees stood witness as the two _elleths_walked down the path, laughing merrily, and trying to lick the last remnants of powdered sugar off their hands. After an hour or so of wandering around the community, Oloriel had introduced Nessúlë to the finest pastry chef in the Golden Wood. Camthalion, the chef, was a jolly soul who was always ready for company. He had treated them to a few pastries, and had presented Nessúlë with a basket of various delectables by way of a welcoming gift. This is where the powdered sugar had come from.

"You have some on your cheek," Oloriel warned, trying to suppress her giggles.

Nessúlë tried to swipe the offending powder away. Unfortunately, her hands were still covered with the moist confectionery.

Oloriel's laughter burst forth again. "It is no use! You're just making it worse. It is all over you now."

Nessúlë mock glared at Oloriel. "I wouldn't laugh if I were you. There is a large swipe of it across your own forehead."

Oloriel heaved a sigh of resignation. "I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about it. I swear that there is a spell upon this sugar - it will not come off!" she cried

The two _elleths_ has just stepped onto the soft turf of the South Field. Elrohir was already there, waiting for them. He turned and threw them a quizzical look.

"Why on earth are you causing so much racket? …And what is on your faces?"

Nessúlë set down her basket then strolled up to Elrohir with an amused smile. "We were just engaged in battle with a rather tenacious pastry, that's all, and I'm afraid we came out the losers." She spread her arms out akimbo to display the white dusting that covered her hands, skirts, and part of her face. "It won't come off, I swear."

Elrohir rolled his eyes. "If the two of you cannot defend yourselves against the onslaught of an inanimate pastry then you are quite hopeless I'm afraid… And don't think that I'm going to let you touch a bow with all of that mess on your hands."

Nessúlë growled softly and glared at Elrohir.

"If we are so hopeless, then will you be so kind as to show us the proper way to defeat this monster?" Oloriel's smooth voice cut between the other two elves.

Nessúlë's eyes sparkled. "Ah yes, show is the true way, _master_." She made a slight obeisance to emphasize the sarcasm. 

A cocky grin spread across Elrohir's face. From somewhere on his person he withdrew a small, worn, handkerchief. Nessúlë held her hands out expectantly, but instead of tending to her, Elrohir turned around and walked several paces to a small fountain that had been set up by the practice field for drinking purposes. He dipped the handkerchief down into the water and wrung it out slowly and deliberately. Turning back to the two ladies, he arched his eyebrow in amusement when he saw their slightly sour faces. 

"That's not fair," Nessúlë declared, "It doesn't count."

Elrohir gasped in mock outrage. "What? It most certainly does. Part of knowing how to defend yourself is knowing what sort of weapon to use."

Nessúlë's playful scowl deepened. 

A smile broke out on Elrohir's face. "Admit it," he urged quietly, as he took her hand in his to wash it off, "Where you failed to conquer this foe, I have triumphed."

Nessúlë rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll give you that. But I highly doubt that even you would wish to have a song written about this'gloriousvictory'. Wouldn't that fit well in the books of lore?" She snorted in a rather undignified manner.

Oloriel grinned as she came up to clean her hands as well. "Most certainly it would. I can see it now: 'How Elrohir Slew the Sugar Beast,' in heroic couplet*. Minstrels would sing it for ages, I'm sure."

Elrohir just chuckled softly. Oloriel had walked by him to dip her hands directly into the pool of water, while he continued to wipe off the last remnants of sticky sugar from Nessúlë's. When he finished he looked up hesitantly at her face. There were several large smudges across it, but he was not sure if it would be quite appropriate for him to wipe them away. Motioning toward her face, he handed the piece of cloth over to Nessúlë. With a wry grin she swiped it across her face. Unfortunately she didn't get it all. There was still some on her jawbone and just below her right ear. Elrohir was going to just let it slip by, not really caring as long as her hands were clean for archery, but Oloriel wouldn't let him get away with that.

"You've missed some," she called over.

"Where?" Nessúlë inquired.

Oloriel shrugged. "It's in a few places. Have Elrohir wipe it off."

Elrohir's eyes widened slightly. That woman was going to be the death of him. What did she think she was doing? He cast yet another suspicious glance her way (he had been doing that quite frequently lately), but Oloriel had already turned her back to him.

Sighing, he accepted the damp cloth and took a hesitant step closer to the _elleth _in front of him. Her eyes met his unflinchingly; she was blissfully unaware of what was going on inside of his mind. Unfortunately, Elrohir did not have that luxury. Every fiber in his being was thoroughly aware of how close she was to him. Thanks to his keen Elven senses he could smell, almost taste, her scent washing over him and it was… delicious. Blinking quickly, he pushed these thoughts from his head and let his hands quickly perform the task at hand. He stepped back from her as soon as it was completed, trying his best to flash her a casual smile.

"There, all gone."

She nodded her thanks and then stepped passed him to examine the equipment that he had brought. Early on it had been decided that, on his way from the Lord and Lady's flet, he would pick up all the necessary accoutrements for their lesson. She noticed that he had scrounged up her own bow and arrow, but that he had not brought her sword. 

"Was my own sword not good enough?" She was very attached to that sword. It had been a birthday present to her many, many years ago. True, it was perhaps not the best size for her, but it had served her well thus far.

Elrohir hesitated. He knew that she loved that sword. "Well… from what I've seen, the sword is your best weapon. Now, you're sword was _fine_, but… if you really want to improve, it will help to have one what is better suited to your size and ability."

Nessúlë began laughing when she saw the worried "I'm walking on egg shells" look that flitted across Elrohir's face. "Don't worry, my friend. I wasn't going to bite your head off or anything. I do like my sword, but I don't have to throw it away and burn it, do I? I'm ready to move on if I must."

A sheepish look replaced the formerly anxious one as Elrohir rubbed the back of his neck. "Alright, then. Now that we've settled that," he walked over to the neatly arranged pile of weaponry and gently retrieved a blade; "this is your new sword, if you will have it."

Nessúlë received the blade reverently. It was simple in its design, yet very fine and beautiful. The handle was made of a dark, rich wood - almost black in color - accented with a few delicate swirls of inlaid gold. The blade itself was formed in a slight, graceful arc, and largely undecorated. Only a few Elvish words of blessing were engraved near to the handle. 

Considering these things, the blade was not very much out of the ordinary. It was skillfully crafted and elegantly designed, as were all Elven blades. What caught ones attention, however, was a soft glow that emanated from the blade itself. When Nessúlë first grasped the haft, the glow seemed to intensify slightly and take on a violet hue.

Elrohir smiled. "I still do not know how the sword-smith did it, but the color of the blade is slightly different for every person. When I hold it the light seems more... bluish."

"It's beautiful," Nessúlë whispered quietly, "and just the right size." She gripped the handle more firmly and gracefully wove the shining blade through the air in precise form. Elrohir nodded approvingly.

"It suits you."

Nessúlë looked straight at Elrohir as she replied. "It is a very fine gift. I am honored, _hír nín. Hannon lle. _{...my lord. Thank you.)"

Elrohir bowed slightly. "It was my privilege. The sword has not seen use for some time – I felt it was right."

Oloriel smiled at both of them. "A very fitting gift, indeed. And now that you are thus armed, shall we not begin?"

"Seeing as that _is_ what we originally came here for..." replied Elrohir, "Yes, we shall begin."

~~~

"You have good form, Oloriel, but you're letting Nessúlë take over. Defense is imperative, but if you want to win the fight you must know when to make the right move. You hesitate."

"Aye, so says Kallindo," Oloriel replied, panting softly. "For a while I was having some beginners luck with him, but the more I train the more my basic flaws are revealed. He can still beat me four out of five times."

Nessúlë's ears perked up as she heard mention of the quiet, somber elf she had met the day before. That same elf had given them all a little shock during their audience with the Lord and Lady. She desperately wanted to inquire more about him, but she did not want to appear too forward. Oloriel and she had struck up a pleasant and promising acquaintance this morning, but that certainly gave her no prerogative to nose around. Thankfully, Elrohir's thoughts were headed down the same path, and he seem to feel a bit bolder than she did.

"You have been working with Kallindo then? Is that how you met him?"

Nessúlë could discern clearly what the underlying meaning was: '_How long have you known him? What is that history?'_ She mentally applauded Elrohir for his very tactful opening line.

Oloriel pursed her lips slightly. "No, we have known each other for many years - since we were children, in fact."

Elrohir acknowledged her statement with a small nod. "You must be very close then."

Both he and Nessúlë saw the _elleth's _hesitation before she replied. "Yes... I believe that we were - are - rather close. We were not always close, and perhaps never as close as some friends, but in our own way..."

She faded off as though she did not know quite how to finish the thought. Elrohir decided to respect her privacy and, instead of pressing her for information, announced that they would now move on to archery. Oloriel was very much thankful for being let off the hook. Everything was still so fresh and she had yet to sort out all her thoughts concerning Kallindo. Their relationship had gone through so many fluxes in so short a time that she was not exactly sure how to describe it.

Oloriel retrieved her own bow and arrows from the side of the clearing and returned to where Elrohir stood with Nessúlë, who was likewise equipped.

"You said that archery is your strongest point, Oloriel?" Elrohir questioned, "I suppose this is your chance to even the score with Nessúlë, then."

Nessúlë sighed in resignation. "Aye, it probably is. I usually try to blame my bad aim on ill-fletched arrows, but I think that cover is starting to wear a bit thin."

Elrohir smiled and agreed matter-of-factly. "Yes, it is… Did my brother ever tell you how she almost impaled him?" he threw a glance in Oloriel's direction.

The _elleth_ shot an amused glance at Nessúlë. "No, I never head about that. Perhaps it was when Elladan and I weren't talking much."

A thoughtful look seeped into Elrohir's eyes. "As a matter of fact, I think it was. That was the day that Elladan was all out of sorts – quite miserable really. But don't worry," he smirked playfully, "I gave him a rousing, inspirational speech. And just look how things turned out. Yet another proof of what a fine job _I_ have done in turning Elladan into the dashing, romantic fellow that he is today."

Oloriel chuckled and shook her head, but Nessúlë just looked confused. And she said as much.

"How could she possibly speak to Elladan when three hundred miles* lie between Lorien and Imladris? I am very confused."

"Do not worry, my lady," Elrohir cast a sympathetic look her way. "We all of us fall pray to that unfortunate ailment at some point in our life. You'll get over it eventually."

He picked up his own quiver and threw it over his shoulder. "Come," he waved them toward the other end of the field, where the targets stood waiting for them. "Archery."

~~~

Oloriel attempted to stifle her laughter as she watched Elrohir's back stiffen and tense. She was a genius. It had taken some skillful maneuvering, but somehow she had done it. Elrohir was currently trying to adjust Nessúlë's stance for shooting… by wrapping his arms around her from behind and helping her to learn and maintain the proper form. Oloriel had spoken of how Elladan once helped her with her stance by doing so, and had thereby wheedled Elrohir into taking up the same practice, professing that she herself was not yet skilled enough to instruct another. 

Elrohir had given her a piercing look then. When would Elladan have ever corrected her archery stance? They had never even met in person. But, of course, Nessúlë did not know this, and so Elrohir reluctantly acquiesced, for fear of seeming rude or prudish.

Oloriel was having too much fun. After her nerve-wracking night with Kallindo, this "project" was the perfect cure for her anxiety. She had a feeling that if she pressed it too far, Elrohir would rebel. But that point hadn't quite come yet, and she was having far too much fun to ease back now. Elrohir and Nessúlë would make a darling couple, and Elladan would have a good laugh over the stories she would tell him that night about her matchmaking endeavors. 

She could tell that Elrohir felt something for the other _elleth_, that much was apparent by the way his jaw clenched tightly when he touched her or by the way his eyes had taken on a bewildered look when she had teased him about Nessúlë the evening before. If she hadn't seen these evidences, along with the looks that Elrohir cast Nessúlë's way, and been convinced that there was already a spark to work on, she would never have presumed to undertake such a feat. But she had seen the looks, and she had become acquainted with the two and seen them together. They already seemed to be very good friends. What harm could be done by giving them a few nudges in what she deemed to be the right direction? 

~~~

'If that woman weren't so dear to my brother's heart…' Elrohir let the aggravated thought hang, not wishing to finish it. He shook his head and walked up behind Nessúlë, tentatively easing his arms around her, and grasping her hands where they held onto the bow and string.

He wasn't really mad at Oloriel, just exasperated. On the trip to Lorien, his friendship with Nessúlë had remained unchanged, and yet his feelings had continued to stretch and pull at the reigns. Right now he was just trying to stay calm and in control, to let it pass by. After all, as Elladan often said, he had imagined himself in love with almost half the maidens in Imladris at one time or another. But those feelings had turned out to be only passing fancies, why would it be any different this time? He should just keep his distance. Elrohir smiled wryly at this thought as his face brushed against Nessúlë's soft hair. He definitely hadn't been keeping his distance today… and it was all _her _fault. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

For the rest of the afternoon Oloriel put what wit she had to good use, trying to push Elrohir and Nessúlë together. Needless to say, Elrohir was getting more and more muddled, as his heart strove valiantly against his will. There was a great fight going on in his mind over whether or not this day had been gloriously wonderful, or miserably uncomfortable. In the end, he decided that is was a miraculous mixture of both. He couldn't be angry with Oloriel. Indeed, she was playing innocently ignorant so well that it would have been unjust on his part to be so. 

Thankfully things calmed down a bit that evening. The whole company met back in the comfortable abode of Írima and Nimfallë for a repast. After supper, they sat closely around the cheery fire together, sipping on mulled cider and talking in low, calm voices. 

"The Lord and Lady bid me to tell you that, as newly arrived guest, you should not worry about your lively-hood just yet," Nimfallë informed his niece and nephew, and their attendant. "When Elrohir dines with them, you may join him; otherwise, the lower banquet halls are open to you. Lady Galadriel specifically commands you to rest and enjoy yourselves for a least two weeks before you seek out more productive employment."

Lantél chuckled in amusement. "First we enjoy a holiday in Imladris, and now we've come into another one here. I begin to grow restless. It will be hard to follow the Lady's command."

"Oh, I don't know," replied Nessúlë merrily, taking another sip of her cider and enjoying the feel of the warm liquid sliding down her throat. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the chair she was leaning against. "I think that, perhaps, I could get used to this."

Lantél chuckled and laid his hand on top of Nessúlë's head, where it rested near his knee. "Aren't you usually the restless one, _muinthel_ {sister}?"

She shrugged drowsily, but did not reply. Lantél began to gently stroke her hair, letting his fingers sink into it every so often.

Elrohir looked at the two, sitting so comfortably together. This was the first time that he had every seen Nessúlë in such an unguarded state. She was merry enough in her own way and open, but she never looked small or vulnerable or delicate. Even when she had been injured in Imladris, and had been forced to walk with the aid of someone else, she insisted on walking with dignity and purpose, though it often hurt her. At this moment, however, with Lantél sitting over her and caressing her hair, one would almost think that Nessúlë was the young one, not him, that she was the one innocent and naïve, the one in need of tender care and concern. Not that Lantél was in any way a fragile creature, for he was a warrior in his own right. But Nessúlë was always undoubtedly the kind, caring older sister – the responsible head of their expedition.

Elrohir smiled softly. Of course, there had been the incident with Hallandakil when Lantél had risen to the defense of his sister's honor. But Nessúlë hadn't been aware of that, and she probably would have scoffed at their righteous fervor and taken care of the situation herself – rebuffing Hallandakil or just plain ignoring him.

Murmured conversation continued to go on around him as he gazed curiously at Nessúlë. How could she look so submissive and peaceful under the gentle ministrations of her brother, what power did Lantél wield over her? This was a silly thought, really, for the answer was quite simple. Lantél did not _cause _her to abandon her façade, she gave it up willingly. He was her brother, and they had always been close. It wasn't curious at all – it was, in fact, the most natural thing in the world. There was no reason to be guarded around Lanél – he was a part of her, as she was a part of him.

Like a lightening bolt, a disturbing shock of emotion burst into his head and heart then. Seeing Nessúlë like this finally made him understand the nagging want that had been growing in him since he first laid eyes on her, but which he had never been able to put into words. He wanted Nessúlë to submit to him in that way. Not in the way that we so often think of submitting – not as an unjust abasement or subjugation, but as a willing surrender flowing from a deep-rooted trust. He wanted to have the right to comb his hand through her hair; to sit with her wrapped in his arms in front of a cozy fire; to feel the warmth of both the red flames and her slender form mixing against his skin. He wanted to be as naturally a part of her as her brother was – inseparable, whole. 

Elrohir shut his eyes quickly to block out the scene before him. An agonizing realization struck him like a whaling gust of wind, bending him almost to his breaking point. Nessúlë was not one to be caught – she was not one to submit. Lantél was her brother. That was different, that was right. But the thought of her bending to anyone else seemed out of place. How could that be changed without changing who she was? How could he want her to change when she was already perfect? Why had he not seen all this before and attempted to save himself from this deep, pulsing ache?

He shook his head quickly and opened his eyes, only to find himself locked in the sympathetic gaze of Alarkelú. Something in the hidden depths of the older, wiser elf seemed to reverberate with Elrohir's spirit. Somehow he knew, somehow he understood this earth-shaking chaos that was love… Love? Yes, that is all Elrohir could think of calling it. The one thing he had sought since he was a striving adolescent. Now, the one thing that seemed to open up a chasm before his very feet, blocking his path and leaving him frozen.

Alarkelú was not the only one to have witnessed the distress in Elrohir's features. Oloriel herself had stopped speaking in mid-sentence as she witnessed the phantom pass across the elf's usually bright eyes. Of course, when she abruptly halted her conversation and stared unguardedly at Elrohir, everyone else followed her gaze. That is, everyone except for Nessúlë, who sat, with her eyes still closed, on the verge of sleep.

Elrohir and Alarkelú were still holding each other's gaze. There was a tense silence for several moments, unhindered by word or movement. Finally, Nessúlë lifted her head slightly and opened her eyes, squinting slightly at the light. "What is wrong with everybody."

Elrohir started and turned to look at her, but quickly tore his eyes away. "Nothing… I… I have just forgotten something very important that… I must go." He got up quickly and inclined his head toward his hosts. "I am sorry, I must… farewell." Turning on his heels he quickly left the flet, leaving his cloak behind him.

~~~

"Elrohir! Elrohir, your cloak!" 

Elrohir sighed in frustration and turned around as the elleth came running up to him, cloak in hand. She was slightly out of breath, for he had made quick time after descending from the trees, and it had taken some persistence to catch up with him. He had not known where he was going – he had just started jogging away into the tree, not looking back.

Oloriel handed him the cloak and he bowed slightly in thanks.

"_Nîron _{I am sorry}, Elrohir. I have made such sport of you today. I had not… I had not realized what a serious business I was getting into. Forgive me."

Elrohir's brows furrowed slightly, but then his forehead smoothed in understanding. "Oh, you mean your pushing me in the direction of a certain she-elf?"

Oloriel bowed her head slightly, feeling ashamed now of her actions. "I just… I told Elladan that I would be sure to tease the both of you, and when I met you and her I thought I might even try to help, you know... But maybe my help was not wanted. I do not know what the cause of your pain was back there, but if I have made you uncomfortable or brought more burdens upon you, I apologize."

Elrohir smiled softly, tilting her chin up so that he could meet her eyes. "No, do not feel ashamed. I'll admit, I thought you were up to something, and I was rather exasperated with you at times, but your actions were not the cause of my distress. I have merely come to realize a truth – a truth that is very painful for me to bear. But it will pass."

"Do you… would you like to talk about it? I am not Elladan, I know, but perhaps I can listen."

Elrohir laughed. "No, indeed you are not Elladan – he's not nearly as lovely as you are… But thank you for the offer, though I am not quite ready to speak just yet. You have a good heart Oloriel. You were very clever today, yet you are also humble enough to ask for forgiveness. I am glad that my brother chose you, for you seem to be a fine match for him – teasing, tricks and all. I think I would like to have you as a sister."

A slight flush began to creep up Oloriel's cheek. "Well… he has not said anything about that."

Elrohir's eyes twinkled for a moment before they faded back into a glazed look. "Do not worry. Elladan will not dare to lose such a precious jewel. He knows how lucky he is… now go to him now. Do not waste any more time on me. Send him my love, that will be service enough." 

Oloriel bowed her head again, this time in respect. She then departed, making her way to her own flet. The stars were just now beginning to appear. Oloriel knew that Elladan would not fall asleep for some while longer, so she took the long way to her home. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Oh Elladan, what a day I have had." Oloriel breathed out, her head situated comfortably on Elladan's shoulder.

They were both lying down, looking up at the wheeling stars above them. The soothing lights brought peace to both their souls. 

Elladan chuckled. This made Oloriel smile as well, since his shoulder shook as he laughed, making her own head shift slightly in an amusing fashion.

"I was wondering when you were going to say something. You've been as tense and taut as a bowstring all this time. Want to tell me why?"

Oloriel turned her head away from the stars and snuggled deeper into Elladan's embrace. "Partly it is your brother's fault… but mostly it is my own, I suppose."

With that opening, Oloriel launched into an account of the day's events. Elladan was indeed amused at her matchmaking attempts, but also concerned at Elrohir's state. He comforted her admirably when she confessed shame at her own actions, and was happy for her in her newfound friendship with another she-elf. In short, he did everything he could to sympathize, console, and cheer up his love. For a time all was right with the world. Love could be turbulent and torrential, but right now Oloriel and Elladan were living in the eye of the storm. Not even the wisest knew what chaos lay swirling around them, hidden in the background. No one ever knows.

***

1.)heroic couplet is a particular form of poetry. If you want to know more, look it up. ^_~

2.)This mileage was roughly calculated using the map in the back of my FotR book.

Things to Know:

Hír nín: "my lord"

Muinthel: "sister" (I chose an alternate version of this word for Lantél basically b/c I felt like it. There are a few different ways of saying this word.)

Nîron: literally – "I-am-weeping"

Hannon lle: "thank you"

To **The Rings Are Mine**: Thanks for the clarification. I was pretty sure that you were mostly speaking about their out-look on life, but in your original review you threw in that last line that brought up the whole physical aspect of their relationship, and so I was a little fuzzy on whether you were criticizing their mental and emotion or their physical maturity. I've got it now, though. I can definitely see where you're coming from with your comments. I'm not sure that I can do anything about it now, but I'll definitely try to work on all of my characterizations. Hopefully you can still enjoy my story for what it is. Thanks for your great analysis.

****

Silver Winter receives an award for best reviewer of the month. She went back and reviewed chapters that she had already read just to make me happy. Three cheers for Silver Winter! ^_~

***It's the third "Win a Random Cute Elf" Raffle. Leave a review and you will be automatically entered to win 1.) A random cute elf, 2.) A four day get-away to the hot-springs of Imladris, or 3.) A palantír disco ball! Everyone who reviews within the first 48 hours of posting will get free e-cookies!***

~Iluvien~


	26. And the Winds Come

Things you need to know about this story...

1.) Elven dreams are very realistic

2.) Elves shouldn't normally meet *real* people along the Olórë Mallë (Path of Dreams)... but something happens in this story that is not normal

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

'*' signals a footnote

****

A/N: (**Important!) **I need to explain something about how I used to perceive elven aging. Since writing a good part of this story I have learned elves reach their maturity at the age of fifty. However, when I first began writing this story I was under the impression (having encountered this idea in several other stories I had read) that elves reached adulthood at the age of one thousand. I know, that's way off, and I should have taken the time to find out the facts before I went on with the story. But I didn't, and now I'm stuck with it. The way I view my characters is very dependent on how I thought that elves aged, and since my characters are already so fleshed out I can't just change everything at this point. So, for this story you'll just have to accept my vision of the world. Elves reach adulthood at one thousand, and in my mind they don't really become "middle-aged" until they're around six thousand years old. If I write another LotR story I will correct this fallacy, but for now you'll have to put up with it. 

___________________________

Chapter 25.) And the Wind Comes

***

__

I want to die while you love me,  
While yet you hold me fair,  
While laughter lies upon my lips,  
And lights are in my hair. 

- Georgia Douglas Johnson

***

Recap: Four days since the last chapter. Elrohir is still in Lothlórien. Elrohir has realized that he loves Nessúlë. Kallindo and Oloriel have come to something of a truce.

There was nothing quite like walking beneath the great _mellyrn _while the moon in its shimmering radiance bathed the wood in a soft silver glow. Aloft in the air, Quiet herself seemed to be lying, suspended in slumber – unguarded, careless, peaceful. Only the most troubled hearts could long resist the gentle, melodic sound of her breathing as it hushed all of the raucous sounds of the day into nothingness. It has been said many times before, and will undoubtedly be said many times again, that the Wood is a place of deep, throbbing enchantment, and so it is. A place where time looses its meaning, and no one, either young or old, cares to find it again. A place immersed in serenity. 

Elrohir breathed deeply the heavy-scented air of the forest as he made his way slowly beneath the hanging leaves. This was his last night in Lothlórien. He would be departing for Imladris in the morning, and he wanted to imprint this place freshly on his mind. The Golden Wood had been his mother's childhood home, and he himself had spent many a happy time there. It was a place of abundant memory, and one which he always regretted leaving behind. Even more so, now that _she _resided here as well. 

Elrohir shook his head slowly and reached out to graze his hand along the smooth bark of a nearby _mallorn_. He paused in his walk to let the feel of the surrounding life wash over him and calm his ruffled thoughts. After a few moments he continued on, letting the small trail pass away beneath his feet. He was following one of his favorite walks. Eventually it would lead into a clearing where he could gaze unhindered at the sky above.

In a few minutes the glade came into view. Elrohir's pace quickened slightly as he hastened out into the clear moonlight. It was only after he had taken several steps into the small meadow that he realized he was not alone.

"Pardon me, I did not mean to intrude upon your privacy," Elrohir spoke to the shadowy figure.

The elf, for so it was, had been facing mostly away from Elrohir, but turned at his words. "It is no matter. All are welcome here."

"Kallindo?"

Kallindo stepped into the moonlight then and confirmed Elrohir's suspicion. "Yes, my lord, it is I."

Elrohir didn't know what to say at first. Their last encounter had been rather awkward. 

"You were not called back to patrol at the border?" he eventually questioned.

"No, it was not needed. However, I will be returning in the morn."

"Ah, then perhaps we will be among the same company. I too am travelling out at first light."

Kallindo nodded softly. "I and my companions will most likely act as your escort, then. At least as far as the border, that is."

"Naturally," Elrohir agreed.

There was another pause. Both had good reason to be curious about the other, but neither one seemed to know where to start. Kallindo was the first one to break the silence, falling back on protocol.

"I must apologize for my behavior the last time we met. I was… agitated. I did not mean to give any offense."

Elrohir waved the apology aside. "It has already been forgiven. I know something of what you were going through, so I cannot wholly blame you."

Kallindo stared pointedly at Elrohir. "You do?"

"Aye. Though she didn't tell me much, she said enough for me to puzzle it out."

Kallindo raised his eyebrows in mild surprise but decided not to reply. He turned his attention back to the star-studded sky, the purpose for his being there in the first place. Elladan did not interrupt his reverie.

Several minutes past before the silence was broken, once again, by Kallindo. "So, _Peredhel_ {title: half-elf}, this brother of yours… does he deserve her?"

Elrohir smiled and shot back, "Do _you _deserve her?"

The other elf let his eyes wander lazily down from the sky. "No, I suppose not. No true lover would ever think he _deserved _the object of his affections. But you know what I really meant." He turned to face Elrohir again, only this time there seemed to be a little more life in his eyes. "I have made my peace with Oloriel, but that does not mean that I relinquish all of my rights. If he fails her, I will come for him."

Elrohir laughed. The sound split the silence that had hung heavily around them and echoed carelessly between the trees. "I shall be sure to tell him of your promise. But," his voice dropped into a more serious strain, "do not be overly anxious. Elladan is one of the most honorable elves I have known. He is steadfast and true, kind and brave, and his heart is good. It may not be of much comfort for you in the end, but he will take care of her." He held Kallindo's gaze for several moments before continuing. "And if he doesn't, you and I shall both take him to task." 

A small smile tugged at the corners of Kallindo's mouth. Suppressing it, he nodded brusquely and replied. "Aye, we shall… we shall indeed."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I have no talent for this, I am afraid." Nessúlë looked forlornly at the half-woven basket in front of her. It had the approximate shape that a basket should, but it was somewhat uncouth and rather disproportional. The _elleth _sighed and tossed her meager work to the other side of the room.

Despite the Lady's commands to rest for a time, Nessúlë had been determined to at least begin exploring options for employment. Her father had been of a lordly status in Mithlond and so, while she had never felt herself above purposeful labor, she had not been raised up in a particular craft. Lantél was at least a warrior, and could easily attain a post in the guard, but she felt herself rather adrift. This meant that she had spent the last few days experimenting. She had already known that she couldn't cook or properly fletch an arrow, and now, after two days she also knew that she had little to offer in the areas of cloth weaving, carving, or basketry.

Oloriel, who had sat across from her as she plied the coarse fibers of her weaving, simply laughed as the half-finished basket came flying her way. "Of course not, you've probably never tried to make one before in your life. You cannot expect to be a master at it."

"I know, I know. But I feel like it is too late to start from scratch. If only there was something that I showed a little promise in."

Oloriel's hand paused in mid-stitch. She was again attempting to mend some of her clothing, and had been sitting there with needle and thread in hand since supper ended. "What about a seamstress? Have you any talent with the needle?"

Nessúlë cocked her head to one side and considered the question. "I did learn to embroider when I was younger. And now that I think on it, I was rather good at it, only at the time I was more interested in swordplay and the fighting arts, so it rather bored me. But perhaps my hands still remember a few things."

Oloriel smiled brilliantly. "If your hands can remember how to do this, my poor, pin-pricked hands will be eternally grateful."

Both _elleths _laughed at this remark as Oloriel handed over her bundle of cloth, thread, and needle. Their merriment was cut short as Írima stepped into the room with an exasperated look adorning her face. 

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Oloriel and Nessúlë looked at each other than back at Írima. "No, I am afraid we don't. But now that you mention it, I suppose it must be rather late. Are we keeping you up?"

Írima sighed dramatically, "No, but I _am_ a little worried for the baby. Nimfallë and I are the ones who have to deal with her when she awakes in the night, so you two had better not wake her up with your jabber."

Oloriel smiled innocently, "We wouldn't dare. Now come, sit with us and talk – you can keep a better eye on us that way."

Írima hesitated for a moment. 

"Yes, do," joined in Nessúlë, "I can tell by the sound of his breathing that Nimfallë is already asleep in the other room, so you might as well stay with us by the fire."

Írima acquiesced to their pleas and took up a place in a low chair by the hearth.

"Actually, now that I think on it, I'm glad that you invited me to join you, for there has been a question plaguing my mind which I believe _you _can answer." She looked pointedly at Oloriel to signify who the "you" was.

Oloriel tilted her head in thought, a slightly confused expression passing across her face. But, after a moment of silence, her eyes widened almost imperceptibly and she straightened up. 

"Whatever are you talking about?" she inquired with feigned artlessness.

Írima just shook her head. "You know very well what I mean, _mellon nín _{my friend}, and you've been avoiding the issue since my niece and nephew arrived. At first I wanted to wait until we could speak privately, but you keep inventing excuses to get away from me. I have you cornered now, and there's nowhere to run. You might as well speak."

Nessúlë looked up from her new task in puzzlement. "What are you talking about _nanethêl _{aunt}?"

Írima smiled slyly. "I'm talking about a certain conversation that took place the night you arrived, _thêliel_ {niece}. Elrohir relayed a rather _warm _greeting from his brother to Oloriel and then Kallindo temporarily lost his manners."

"Oh yes, I remember now. That was rather strange."

"All I want to know," Írima continued, turning her gaze upon her somewhat uncomfortable friend, "is _everything_ you've been hiding from me." 

Nessúlë grinned. "Mmm… sounds entertaining."

Oloriel gulped and sank back into her chair. Two pairs of inquisitive, unmerciful eyes were bearing down upon her, and there didn't seem to be any way of escape. It looked like this was going to turn into a very long night.

"Very well," Oloriel gave in, "It all began… while I was sleeping."

~~~

Oloriel wrapped the blanket more tightly around her and sighed contentedly. It had actually felt quite good to get all that out, even though it had been rather hard to begin. The secret had been enjoyable, but she was strangely relieved by the fact that she would now have someone to talk to about it.

Írima sat silently, watching the fire as she let everything sink in. Oloriel had had much to say, and with all of the interruptions, retellings, and explanations which normally occur when excited females are talking, the tale had taken quite some time. The night was old, and yet she still felt wide-awake.

"My…" she finally whispered.

Nessúlë nodded slowly. "Aye, that about sums it up."

Oloriel could not help but giggle at their stunned expressions. "It is quite an extraordinary story, is it not? Someone should write it down one day."

The other two slowly nodded, but did not speak.

Silence.

"Aha!" Oloriel cried, "That's it."

The other two _elleths _jumped perceptibly.

"Oloriel, the baby!" Írima chided in a fierce whisper.

Oloriel shrugged. At least she had gotten them to speak – that was something.

"What's _it_?" Nessúlë inquired.

Oloriel smirked cheekily. "I have found a profession for you. You could be a writer of lore and fable and sell story books to children."

Nessúlë looked as though she would like to have thrown another half-made basket at Oloriel, but since there weren't any within arm's reach she refrained.

"Dear, you may not have noticed, but there are about three children under the age of five hundred in Caras Galadhon. I think I would run out of business rather quickly."

Oloriel shrugged merrily. "Well, you didn't say you actually wanted to make any _money_." 

Oloriel didn't have time to duck before a pillow came hurling through the air and collided with her chest.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The next morning Nessúlë, Oloriel, and Írima stood together in a clearing where several horses were being fitted for travel. They were there to say good-bye to Elrohir. Lantél and Alarkelú were also there, but they were helping to strap down several saddlebags. It was expected that the Lord and Lady would arrive soon as well, to bid their grandson farewell.

"Have you ever been outside of the Wood?" inquired Nessúlë of Oloriel.

"Aye, once." Oloriel breathed softly. "But the journey was not far. When my father set out to depart for Valinor I rode with him several leagues past the border, but was then sent back. I saw the Hithaeglir* and away down south, looking like a dark mist, I saw the northern reaches of Fangorn. I wish that I had seen more, now. Indeed, I do envy you somewhat, Nessúlë. You have seen many things. For more than two thousand years I have lived, and yet I still feel like a child to Middle Earth. But, that is the way of Elves. We do not weary of a place quickly, and my heart is still in love with this wood. It is my home."

"And a very beautiful one it is," Nessúlë replied. "I believe that I shall grow to love it as well. But do not envy me so. We all have our own paths. Perhaps one day yours will lead you to many places, whether you will or no."

Oloriel nodded silently in agreement. Just then another elf walked out of the stables that were nearby, leading his own chestnut stallion to add to the company. 

Oloriel broke away from her companions and went up to him.

"_Mae aur, _Kallindo {good morning}. How are you?"

Kallindo offered her a small smile. "I am well, Aiwë. And you?"

"Oh, fine enough. Do you ride out on patrol?"

"I do. I shall be out for three weeks with Orophin and his brothers."

"You go to the western border then?"

"Aye, we will watch the mountain. It should be a relatively routine task. There has not been much activity there of late."

Oloriel nodded. "Well, take care anyway." She touched his forehead lightly and spoke a traditional Elven blessing: "_Varnië tulka ohtar, i'Valar varya lye_ {Be safe, strong warrior, the Valar protect you}."

Kallindo bowed in thanks and Oloriel went back to her companions. When she stood again at Nessúlë's side the other maiden leaned over and whispered conspiratorially, "Now that is another story I would like to hear. I believe that Kallindo was a little jealous of Elladan. Why is that? Have you another admirer?"

Oloriel sighed. "That is a story that will remain untold for now. All you need know is that Kallindo and I are trying to restore our past friendship. He is resigned and will heal in time."

Nessúlë obligingly suppressed her curiosity on the point and turned to bid Elrohir, who was walking up to them, a fond farewell.

"I am sorry to see you go so soon. You have been a true friend and I will not forget it." Nessúlë spoke with a clear, friendly voice. 

Elrohir's eye held a wistful look but he spoke with a light enough air that it could be easily over-looked. "And I shall not forget you, lady. Especially since I have yet to repay your last caper at my expense."

Nessúlë laughed merrily. After the incident with the mud on the first day of their journey, Nessúlë and Elrohir had continued to mischievously plague each other all the way to Lothlórien. Nessúlë, however, had obtained the last laugh. 

"I shall have to keep my wits about me then. Who knows when you might appear to douse me with a bucket of water or put frogs in my bed?"

At this statement, Oloriel too laughed. "Aren't we a little old for frogs? I'm sure that you could come up with something better than that, Elrohir."

Elrohir shrugged. "Well, I shall try to think of something – I will have the time. I do not know when we shall all meet again. Times grow dark and the road is dangerous. I shall miss you both."

Oloriel's eyes brightened with an idea. "Well, since Nessúlë has yet to find an occupation, perhaps she will find the time to write to you… for the both of us. Her hand is steady and her wit is quick. I'm sure that she will be able to come up with many entertaining anecdotes to remind you of your friends in the Golden Wood."

There was a fraction of a moment when Elrohir's gaze locked with Oloriel's and a quick understanding passed between the two. It seemed that Oloriel the Matchmaker was on the job once again.

Elrohir smiled and shook his head slightly. "I should enjoy that… very much."

Nessúlë, as oblivious as ever to the romantic undercurrents surrounding her, did not object to the idea. Why should she not correspond with her friend? Others might frown upon that fact that he was, after all, a very eligible young man of high status and renown, but Nessúlë was not one to cower under the displeasure of others.

As they were speaking, Celeborn and Galadriel had arrived, walking hand in hand as was their wont.

Seeing them, Nessúlë placed a quick, innocent kiss on Elrohir's cheek and whispered sincerely, "May we meet again on these shores, _mellon nín_." She then backed away, allowing the Lord and Lady some privacy with their kin.

After a few minutes Elrohir and his grandparents parted. He mounted his horse, and the rest of the company, consisting of six other elves, followed his example. With one last lingering gaze, Elrohir raised his hand and spoke.

"_Aen i'Valar ortiria le pân. Namárië! _{May the Valar watch over you all. Farewell!}." His eyes flitted briefly toward Nessúlë, then he turned his horse and was gone.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kallindo did not pay much attention as his horse ambled on behind the horse in front. They had passed by Cerin Amroth several hours before and were now not far from where the company of guards would cross the Celebrant and depart the Naith of Lorien*. They had pressed on for much of their journey, but now, as at other times along the way, they let their horses set the pace, walking gently through the soft, fragrant grasses. 

Conversation had been light. Kallindo had exchanged a few words with Rúmil, who was of the party, and also with Elrohir, but was now silent. His mind was mulling over many things. His life had changed so much in the past weeks and months, and it seemed as though he was now just waking from a dream, trying to rub the mist from his eyes.

He had had several brief encounters with Oloriel since their last emotional conversation. The friendship was still slightly tentative, but it was on the mend. And Kallindo was determined that it should be so. He was resolved to rise above his own grief, and not to taint her happiness with his own despair. 

There is something to be said for resolution. A heart that is set upon a goal and strives for it with determination will not wilt so easily as one that is adrift. Of course, this is not to say that there will be no struggle, no indeed. Kallindo's spirit was still in many ways a charred wasteland. There were seeds lying in the ground, waiting for rain, but at present they remained hidden below the earth, hiding their greenness away.

The company halted, breaking Kallindo out of his reverie. Elrohir intended to take the High Pass across the Hithaeglir, and so would not cross to the southern shores of the Celebrant along with the others. As Kallindo caught up on the conversation he realized that Elrohir had decided to part with them before they reached the river crossing. One other of the company, a message rider, would go with him, as it was not wise to travel alone. 

"Thank you for your company," Elrohir spoke to all of them. "I bid you all farewell. May your guard be a safe one, and filled with most uneventful watching." He smirked cheekily.

Everyone chuckled quietly. It was the age-old difficulty with patrolling. One could never decided whether it was more appealing to be bored out of your mind or to rest under the tense cloak of danger.

"And farewell to you, lord Elrohir," Rúmil spoke up, "May your journey be free of fear and may a never-ending vista of gray rocks and dry grasslands attend you."

Elrohir bowed with exaggerated movements. "Thank you for your concern, Rúmil. It warms my heart."

Moments later, the two elves departed. Kallindo watched Elrohir's retreating form with mixed feelings. They had spoken for some time the night before and Kallindo had developed a healthy respect for the dark-haired _Peredhel _{half-elf}. And yet, at the same time, this elf reminded him most of what he had lost. Kallindo shook his head to rid himself of these gloomy thoughts. 'Enough brooding,' he thought wryly, 'Come back to yourself, Kallindo.'

He took his self-admonition to heart and, as the company went on its way again, he turned to the elf beside him a struck up a rather lively conversation.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

-The Next Night-

"Do you hear that?" Orophin whispered.

"Aye, 'tis the Song of Nimrodel," Kallindo replied, "And a fair voice sings it. One of the travelers must be of our kin."

Haldir sat tensely on the edge of the flet, listening to their words. "And it is well for the others that it should be so. I would not otherwise tolerate the waters of the Nimrodel to be thus polluted."

"Shall we accost them now, or wait for them to come nearer?" Rúmil inquired.

Haldir thought for a moment. "We shall wait, I think. Kallindo, go to the other flet and tell Haldayúla to keep his guard, but not to attempt an approach. He is often over-anxious."

Kallindo saluted with a fist over his heart then departed quick and silent as a shadow.

~~~

The Fellowship was seeking a refuge for the night, afraid that the orcs of Moria might have the audacity to follow them into the forest. It was decided upon that they should seek safety in the trees. Legolas, he of the company who was most at home among the trees, went first, leaping up and grasping hold of the nearest bough. What he did not know was that this particular tree was already inhabited.

"_Daro! _{Halt!}" 

Kallindo watched with amusement from his nearby perch as the elf let go of the tree in surprise. Haldir did have that affect on people. He continued to watch as Haldir had a quick conversation with the foreigners and then invited the elf and one of the small people to ascend into the tree. Kallindo eyed the remaining travelers with curiosity. There seemed to be four other of the small people… wait, no… the fourth was – 

"They've brought a filthy dwarf with them!" he hissed under his breath.

Haldayúla screwed up his face in similar disgust. "Well, I'll wager Haldir won't let that one get far."

~~~

"…and this is Gimli son of Gloin." 

Kallindo eyed the dwarf suspiciously but did his best to remain aloof and courteous. He couldn't imagine why Haldir had agreed to this, but he would abide by the Marchwarden's decision. 

Haldayúla spoke up. "Aragorn… that name it known in these woods. You are the foster son of Elrond, yes?"

Aragorn bowed his head in acknowledgement. This turned Kallindo's attention from the dwarf to the man.

"Then you would know Elrohir and Elladan quite well I imagine."

"Yes," Aragorn replied, "We have been through much together, though it has been sometime since I have spent any amount of time with them. The days are unsettled."

"You will be sorry, then, to hear that Elrohir departed the Golden Wood just yesterday."

Legolas, who had been listening to the conversation with half an ear, frowned slightly at these words. He would like to have seen his old friend. 

Aragorn's countenance took on a puzzled look. "Indeed I am sorry, but… only Elrohir? I have never known him to go anywhere without his brother. What could have forced them apart I wonder?"

Kallindo did not have an answer for that, so he remained silent. It was at this moment that the dwarf decided to make his unwelcome presence felt. Up to this point the conversation had been carried on entirely in a form of Elvish, and Gimli was not too pleased with this circumstance. 

"Why don't you speak in a language we can all understand?" he grumbled irritably.

Kallindo, Haldayúla, and Legolas all seemed to sigh on cue, and pin the dwarf down with their blank stares. Aragorn just shook his head, then intervened.

"We said nothing of consequence, Master Dwarf. But come, the time for conversation has passed. We must all try to get some rest now."

Some most unnatural rumblings and grunts came out of the dwarf then, which, according to the general opinion, signified his disgruntled resignation.

~~~ 

It was not many hours later when the orcs came. Trampling noisily across the Nimrodel and sniffing the air for their prey. They had come from the mountains, but if everything went as planned, never again would they return there. Orophin and Kallindo led them deeper into the forest, luring them with feigned voices away from the sleeping fellowship. They would alert the city and bring a contingent of Galadhrim to snuff out the threat before they had time to do any damage. All would be well again by morning.

At least, that was the plan.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oloriel sat nervously atop her gray mare, scanning the area for any signs of movement. Orophin had come into the city an hour before to muster aid in driving out the orcish threat, and as was the general practice, healers were sent out to flank them, in case aid was needed quickly. Oloriel's flet had been near and so she was called. Although she had armed herself, a guard had also been assigned to protect her. He too was mounted, waiting anxiously for a sound or movement. For some time the noise of battle had been heard: clanging metal, flying arrows, and the mangled cries of orcs. But now all was silence.

Oloriel motioned to her escort and nudged her horse forward. After a few minutes they began to pass by fallen bodies, all of them orcs. There was no sign of any elves until they made it through a particularly heavy clump of brush and trees. They came out into a clearing and saw three elves standing on the other side, talking and whispering. Even as they appeared one of the elves ran off, as if on an errand. Lying between Oloriel and the remaining two elves was a carpet of dead orcs – at least a score of them, all bloodied and sight-less. 

Oloriel turned her head away and closed her eyes for a moment. The scene was certainly not a pleasant one. When she opened them again, she looked up and addressed the elves across the way.

"I am a healer, do you know if my assistance is needed?"

The elf who wasn't already facing her turned around and she realized happily that it was Kallindo, looking well and unscathed. He began walking toward her, carefully weaving his way through the fallen bodies.

"I do not know," he replied, "We attempted to force the orcs to divide, driving small parties off in different directions. All I know of are these orcs and the men who came with me. I suggest that you ride on to find more information, but… be careful, Aiwë, they may not all be dead yet."

As Kallindo spoke these last words he stood but a few feet away from her. Close enough so that she could easily see every detail of his shocked visage when an orc, hidden beneath his fellows, rose up from the ground and hurled a small spike through Kallindo's abdomen.

The world seemed to freeze. Kallindo looked at the sharp metal protruding from his stomach with disbelief, but did not move otherwise. Oloriel tried to scream, but her throat closed up and not a sound could she make.

In their moment of indecision the orc struck again, lashing out at Kallindo's leg with his jagged knife. This action brought the whole world back into movement. Kallindo instantly fell to his knee, and almost simultaneously, three arrows pierced the orc, one from each elf left standing.

With frantic movements Oloriel tumbled from her horse and knelt down beside Kallindo, who was crumpled, though not yet prostrate on the ground. She tried to think what to do. The world was spinning and she was having trouble focusing. She wanted to scream and cry and pound the earth, but instead she lifted up a silent prayer to the heavens and went to work. She called to her escort and told him to support Kallindo while she prepared to dislodge the spike. She pulled down her bag from the horse and retrieved every piece of cloth she had. There would be much blood, but she didn't think that the fetid weapon should remain in his body. Finally, with slightly shaking hands, Oloriel wrapped the sharp metal end in several rags and pulled with all her strength. The shaft came out cleanly. Oloriel thank the Valar for that. It could have been much, much worse. The small spear could have torn an organ right from his body – then all would certainly have been lost.

Oloriel went to work trying to stop up the blood and preserve Kallindo's body with the healing chants. To this day she does not remember much of what happened during that time. It was as a nightmare, and this time, Elladan was not there to rescue her.

~~~

"Ai..wë…" Kallindo attempted to speak but his body was convulsing slightly and his speech as broken.

"Shh, do not speak, you must not speak," Oloriel urged him. She had finished binding his wounds, but Kallindo was still not out of danger. There was no way to know just what had been damaged, no way to see inside of him. All she could do was continue to whisper the chants, and hope that the herbs inside his bandages would have some affect on the bleeding.

"But… I have to tell you," he began again, but didn't have the strength.

"No, do not… you do not…have to tell me anything… lie still." Oloriel could hardly speak for herself, as tears began to stream down her face.

Several moments later, Kallindo tried to speak yet again. "_Úcarnîr…úcarnîr, aewtithen nín…_{Do not weep… do not weep, my little bird…}" He winced with some hidden pain, and took some time to catch his breath before he continued, "_Cuino… cuino mae… mela e… _{Live… live well… love him…)"

Kallindo closed his eyes and did not speak again as unconsciousness overtook him. Oloriel kissed his brow softly and folded her arms around his body. She could still feel his faint breath fanning against her neck but hope was fleeing from her heart, for she did not know how much longer he would last.

***

Hithaeglir = Misty Mountains Naith of Lorien: The "arrow-head" of land between the Celebrant and the Anduin. It's kind of like Lothlórien Proper – the place where few strangers are permitted to enter. See Haldir's description of it in FotR: Book II: Chapter VI: Lothlórien 

Things to Know:

Oloriel: "dream daughter"

Aiwë: "small bird"

Kallindo: "noble heard"

Nessúlë: "young spirit"

Lantél: "falling star"

Alarkelú: "swift stream"

Haldayúla: "hidden ember"

elleth: she-elf

Peredhel: half-elf

mae aur: good morning

mellon: friend

nanethêl = literally, "mother-sister" = "naneth + thêl"

thêliel = literally, "sister-daughter" = "thêl + iel"

Varn-ië tulka ohtar, i'Valar varya lye = literally, "Safe-be strong warrior, the-Valar protect you" --- varna = "safe", ië (suffix) = "be"

Aen i'Valar or-tiria le pân. Namárië = literally, "May (it be) the-Valar over-watch you all. Farwell

Ú-car-nîr, aew-tithen nín… cuino mae, mela e = "Not-do-weep, bird-little my… live well, love he" --- sorry, but there doesn't seem to be a Sindarin pronoun for "him"

***Results of the third "Win a Random Cute Elf" Raffle***

1st place goes to… **KnowInsight**

You get your very own…. *drum roll* … Haldir!!! Yes, that's right. I couldn't find any other unsuspecting available Elven male, so you get the Golden Wood's finest Marchwarden. Take care of him now, he's a sensitive guy. ^_~

2nd place goes to… **Calenore**

You get your very own four day, VIP vacation package to the Hot Springs of Imladris! Enjoy your stay, and makes sure you get one of the Swedish messages (or is that Sindarin?) = P

3rd place goes to… **Malevolent Mystic**

You get to take home a Palantír Disco Ball! Sorry I couldn't get it to you before the New Year. *shrugs* Next time you throw a party this little tasty is sure to give the atmosphere a little extra excitement.

There ya go folks… and e-cookies to everyone who reviewed within the first 48 hrs. of posting. You know who you are… and so do I… thanks bunches you guys!!!

~Ilúvien~ 


	27. Seeing Clearly

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

'*' signals a footnote

****

A/N: Hey everyone, go read "Among the Brambles" by Nea's World. I really like it, and I've enjoyed her other stuff too, so go check it out and giver he lots of reviews and make her happy. = )

__________________________

Chapter 27.) Seeing Clearly

***

__

"Some are born to Endless Night."  
- William Blake

***

Recap: Elrohir left LothLorien a day before the Fellowship arrived. Kallindo and Rúmil were sent to muster help in driving out the band of orcs that had trailed the Fellowship from the mountains. After a surprise attack, Kallindo totters on the brink of death. Same night as the last chapter.

"He has come." Galadriel's tone was solemn yet pleased. 

Celeborn turned to his wife and let his eyes trail over her face. He had an inkling of whom she was speaking of, but had learned long ago not to be overly confident about predictions concerning his bonded. With a faintly amused smile he questioned, "Who has come?"

She did not turn to him, but continued to gaze out into the darkened forest."Estel*. He has passed the eaves of the Wood." A moment of gentle silence enveloped them before Galadriel turned to face her husband, with eyes slightly clouded. "His heart is heavy with more than care. He bears a great sorrow… though I cannot perceive what it is."

Celeborn touched his lady's cheek gently before drawing her in to rest against him. "Even you cannot know everything, _bess* nín _{my wife}. Indeed, I often fear that you know too much. We will see Estel soon enough and learn the truth of the matter."

Galadriel sighed. "I have seen many things in these past days, much of which I can do nothing about… much of which I do not completely understand." She paused. "But there has been one thought pressing upon my mind of late. I took action on it a few days ago, though I never sought your advice on the matter."

"Of what do you speak?" Celeborn inquired with concern. It was not unusual that Galadriel would take a matter into her own hands, but that was generally because the issue was of such a nature that second-counsel was not of vital importance. In most cases they shared rule. But even if Galadriel had acted upon her own authority, it was not her way to dig up the past… unless something was troubling her.

"I sent word through Elrond to the Dúnedain*. I have summoned them to Rohan, to bring aid to Estel."

Celeborn drew back to get a better view of Galadriel's face. "Rohan? Why would you call them there? We know enough of this quest to devise that Estel's road should not be leading him through the lands of the Horse Lords."

Galadriel smiled wanly, "As I said, I do not always understand what I see. But I could not ignore it any longer, despite how unlikely it may seem at the moment."

Drawing her back into his embrace, Celeborn smoothed her hair with his hand and whispered, "_Tiriol bor, melleth nín. Estelin sa mînor gedithal îdh _{You are ever watching, my love. I hope that one day you will find rest}."

*~*~*earlier that day, in Imladris*~*~*~*

"You called for me, _ada_?" Elladan gently closed the door to his father's study as he spoke.

Elrond stood at the window, hands clasped behind his back. He did not move from this position as he spoke. "A bird from Lothlórien has come bearing a message. It's there on the desk."

Elladan walked over to his father's desk and picked up the previously rolled parchment. He read: _"Aragorn has need of his kindred. Let the Dúnedain ride to him in Rohan!"*_

"Rohan?" Elladan questioned.

Elrond turned from the window and approached his son. "Aye, Rohan. I do not know if it is Aragorn or your grandparents that have sent this message, but we cannot delay in our response. You must ride out and rally as many of the Dúnedain as you can locate. Time is always against us, so make haste as you can. You would do well to ride south within a week's time."

Elladan cast a startled look in his father's direction. 'But, _ada_… what about Elrohir?"

It may seem odd to some, but in the whole course of their lives, Elladan and Elrohir had never been apart for more than a few weeks at a time. And never did one of them attempt a perilous adventure without the aid of the other. The thought of venturing into the south, to who knew what end, without his brother was decidedly unsettling for Elladan.

Elrond gave his son a sympathetic look. "Let us just hope that he returns in time. Although, I do not think it is likely. We could send out the falcons to inform him of this turn of events. Perhaps he could meet you along the way."

Elladan nodded slowly. That was the best that could be done. "Send them out then. I will ride north tomorrow at first light. Tell Elrohir that we will be at -------- in two weeks time."

The rest of the evening was spent preparing for Elladan's departure. Dinner was a farewell affair that lasted some hours into the night. Though the day had not been strenuous enough to tax his body, it was nevertheless with a heavy heart that Elladan fell into bed that night and met his lady in dreams.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oloriel cast a worried glance at Elladan. He was trying to appear relaxed, but she could tell that he was on edge about something. Their connection, though not exhaustive, had continued to grow in strength, and this extra perception aided her in reading him. She could feel his discomfort.

"Elladan," she whispered, stroking her hand through his hair. 

His head rested in her lap, and his eyes were closed. The soft pulsing atmosphere of the dreamscape was at least doing something to ease the elf's tension, though it clearly wasn't enough. He stirred slightly when she spoke his name, but did not open his eyes.

"Hmm?" he murmured.

She smiled at his open, unguarded expression and leaned down to kiss his forehead. "What is wrong?"

Elladan opened one eye then closed it again with a sigh. "I'm afraid that my real life is not quite so peaceful as is this lovely dream."

Oloriel chuckled softly. "That is nothing new. What happened?"

With another heavy sigh Elladan sat up and readjusted his seat to face her. He took both of her hands in his and held her gaze for a few moments before speaking. 

"I will be leaving Imladris soon; tomorrow morning, in fact. I go to call upon the aid of the Dúnedain, then I will ride south with them to Rohan."

Oloriel stared blankly at him for a moment. "Do you… do you ride into danger?"

"Aye." Elrohir squeezed her hands gently as he spoke, but knew that it would bring little assurance.

Leaning forward, Oloriel rested her head against Elladan's shoulder. "If I hadn't asked, would you still have told me? Were you trying to save me the distress?"

Elladan started at these words. He raised her chin up so that her eyes could meet his. "No. No, I would not deceive you so. I merely… I just couldn't find the right words. And I didn't want to think about it for a while."

Nodding reluctantly, she shifted and took back her position against his shoulder. "What am I to do, Elladan?"

Elladan brought his arms up around her waist. "What do you mean?"

"Have you not thought on what Galadriel told us those weeks ago? She said that we would play a part in fighting the darkness. And darkness is surely upon us now. I may not be a skilled warrior, or a ruler, but I hear whispers the same as everyone else. I know that peril is at hand, and now you ride into it. But where is my part? What am I to do? Shall I… shall I come with you?"

"No." Elladan's arms tightened instinctively around Oloriel as he replied. "No… do not seek out danger. Fate has a way of forcing itself upon us. Please, do not go looking for it. I could not bear to see you come to harm."

Oloriel leaned back from Elladan's embrace and cupped his face in her hands. "You are right, Fate will find a way to break through its chains. You cannot stop it, Elladan – no one can." She kissed his forehead once again. "Do not fear for me. If I can help to save this world then I will face my duty… whatever it brings me in the end."

Elladan's smile then was a mixture of bitter sorrow and extreme affection. He leaned in to press a gentle, though urgent kiss upon her lips then drew her back into his secure embrace. 

"Do what you must, _mell er_ {dear one}, but please do not be over anxious or rash. Wait in Lothlórien yet a while." 

Oloriel sighed into his tunic. "As you wish."

It was only a few moments later, just as they were beginning to grow comfortable again, that Oloriel stiffened in his arms and sat up.

"Someone is trying to wake me. I must go."

And before Elladan could say another word, she had placed a quick kiss on his cheek and disappeared.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan paced apprehensively through the shifting landscape around him. It was hard to judge the passage of time within a dream, for it did not pass in the same way as it did in the waking world, but he still felt that she should have returned by now. Something was obviously wrong. He knew that she was studying the healing arts, so reason told him that she could well have been called away to employ her skill. But this did not ease his spirit much. There must have been some dire need to keep her away so long, unless, perhaps, she was assigned to watch over a sleeping patient. 

"Yes, that's it," he verbally assured himself. She would not let herself fall asleep on duty, so that is why she did not come. This separation annoyed him somewhat, but he did his best to shake of the selfish feelings. He couldn't have her all the time. 

Some while later, as Elrohir's mind began to perceive the coming of dawn, his peace of mind was shattered once again as a wave of fierce emotions surged over him. He could feel grief; despair; anger – all jostling together and rushing headlong through his mind. The shock of it left him breathless and dizzy for a moment. When his faculties came back to him, Elladan found Oloriel laid out at his feet, eyes closed and crying softly.

Without thinking Elladan dropped to his knees, taking up one of her hands with his right and caressing her face with his left.

"Oloriel, what is the matter?" He did not get a response from her at first, and his heart ran wild with fear. "Oloriel, speak to me… what is wrong?"

With a start Oloriel's eyes flew open and she inhaled sharply when she saw Elladan. Her hand flew to grasp his arm, and she held onto it with a desperate grip. Her eyes darted around wildly before she moved to sit up. Foreseeing her intention, Elladan deftly slipped his arm around her and brought her up to lean against his chest, resting his face against her neck.

"Don't scare me like that, _mellorpân _{dearest}."

A few more minutes of ragged breathing past before Oloriel found her voice. "I must have cried myself to sleep… I should have stayed with him, but one of the guards carried me away! Elladan, I must go back."

Elladan's grip tightened on her, as if that could keep her from waking. "No, _melleth_, stay with me. Tell me what has happened."

Oloriel sagged wearily in his embrace. She bowed her head and would not speak for several moments. Finally, Elladan turned her face toward him and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. "_Please_… please tell me."

Pulling away from him, Oloriel stood up and wrapped her arms around her own waist, shoulders drooping slightly. "Kallindo – he has been wounded. Orcs came in the night and we thought they were all killed… but they weren't. One of them pierced him straight through the stomach. I… I saw it happen and… there was no time. None of us had any time to stop it… I tried to bind up the wound, but there was _so_ much blood, and I don't know… I just don't know if it was enough." She paused in her speech and began to pace forward wearily. "I don't know what else I could have done, but… Oh, it will be a miracle if he survives."

Elladan stood up to follow her, but did not speak. What was there to say? As an elf he was not accustomed to dealing with death. His mother had thankfully escaped Mandos's shadow after her capture by Orcs in the mountains, so he had never come face to face with the ominous specter of mortality. 

He wanted to tell her that all was not lost – that as long as Kallindo lived there was hope. But it seemed an empty comfort. No one knew what the morning would bring. And in such cases as these, power to change the outcome was beyond the reach of most. 

He wanted to tell her that the horrific images would fade from her memory with time, but he knew that they probably wouldn't. He still remembered so many things that he wished to forget.

Elladan was drawn out of his mental blundering by the sound of a soft whimper. Oloriel was beginning to quiver again with suppressed sobs, and it tore at his heart to hear them. But before Elladan could draw her in to embrace her, she quelled the trembling and stepped out of reach of his arms. She straightened her shoulders and for a moment stood as silent and still as a statue. Then, turning back to him with precise, graceful movements, Oloriel met Elladan's eyes with a steady, piercing gaze. Elladan did not speak, so struck was he by the intensity of the foreign light in her eyes. An aura seemed to drape about the _elleth_, giving her an air of hidden strength and radiant beauty. It was as if she had, in a instant, shed her cloak of childish, innocent naïveté, and stood before him in all the fullness of her identity: a Child of Ilúvatar, Descendent of the Firstborn, Daughter of the Stars, wise and fair beyond the reach of men, eternal, mesmerizing, perilous. 

The air hung thick with expectation around the two silent elves, as if something was holding its breath, waiting for the silence to be broken.

"Mandos cannot have him," Oloriel spoke first, slicing the air with a vehement proclamation. Then, her voice gaining strength, she cried out, "He has taken enough from me! The darkness has come too far – I _will not_ _yield_!" Her eyes blazed more brightly and all the landscape around them seemed to shrink and fade into nothingness. "I will not run away like before. I will not hide and cower in the shadows. I will ride out and I will fight to protect what I love!" She lifted her chin slightly as though in defiance of some unseen presence. "If my road leads me to the very gates of Mordor I will follow it eagerly. And when I see the dark spires and the barren, smoldering rocks, when I see the taunting mountains and the unforgiving foes, I will raze them to the ground if I must! …But I_ will not _stand by while everything that I hold dear slips through my fingers like rain… I will no longer stand by while my world is washed away…"

Wonder enveloped Elladan as he silently watched his beloved. He had never seen this side of her before, and was awed by it. Her words stirred up his own spirit, filling him with the need for action – for vengeance. He too had felt this drive, this rage. Countless times during his life he had witnessed the destruction of the growing shadow and he knew as well as she the heartache and the determination that came from such an experience. He too wanted to defeat this evil, to save the only home he had ever known, to drive out all of the invading darkness. He admired her greatly for her courage, but… but the thought of her walking headlong into danger made him ill. He did not want her to have to experience the cruelty of war. He did not want her to suffer the numbing of her spirit, to grow accustomed to agony and to death, to pain and to sorrow. There had to be some other way.

"Oloriel…" the tone of his voice betrayed the desperation of his plea, "Please, do not do anything foolish."

Oloriel's eyes flashed. "I know my own strength, Elladan, and I know what I must do."

He tried to caress the side of her face but she turned away from him. "'Riel, do not take such a burden upon yourself. You cannot… you cannot fight all of Mordor, _melleth nín_."

Shaking her head, Oloriel murmured, "Using endearments will not get you anywhere, son of Elrond."

Elladan began to grow truly frightened of her purpose. "You are but one maiden – this is not your responsibility!"

"Then whose is it?" Oloriel bit back. "It is the duty of every creature of upright heart to fight for what it good. I will not sacrifice those dear to me for my own comfort."

Exasperated and very apprehensive, Elladan took recourse to his last option. Drawing Oloriel into his arms, he kissed her soundly and then held her firmly against his chest until she stopped struggling.

"At least promise me this _mell er _{dear one}. Seek wise counsel before you take any action… and abide by that counsel. Do not do anything until you have given it some thought. And do not sneak away unprepared, and with no one knowing of your intentions."

Oloriel had no intention of being influenced away from her purpose, but she wanted to appease Elladan and give him some comfort. So, nodding slowly, she brought her arms up around his waist and leaned into him obligingly.

Elladan smiled. That was better. Oloriel had promised – she would seek out counsel from someone sensible and wise, no doubt they would see the folly of her vague intentions, and she would be dissuaded from her course. She would be kept safe. All would be well. 

With heart and mind mostly at ease, Elladan kissed Oloriel's hair then released her.

"I must go. Dawn is upon us; I can feel it. I will hope and pray for Kallindo's recovery. Somewhere in my heart I will always feel somewhat wary of him, but I would not wish him harm, and I know he has been your good friend. Take courage, all may yet turn out well."

Oloriel gave him a small smile and released the hand that she had been holding. "_Varnamesta, máraimë _{safe journey, good hunting}."

Elladan smiled fondly. "Safety and goodness I bid you as well… and I have already spoken my mind on the rest." He was just about to draw himself from sleep when he paused. "You know that I love you?"

This brought out a real smile on Oloriel's face, though she was still heavy in heart. She slowly nodded in the affirmative.

Elladan's smile widened. "Good."

*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

The tapestries lining the walls flew by him as Elladan hurried toward his Arwen's chambers. His pack had been stocked the night before with all that he would need for his journey and a stable hand had been assigned to prepare his mount for departure. Therefore, he had only to say farewell to his father and sister before he would be ready to depart.

He was half way to Arwen's room when he met the object of his search in the hallway, binding her hair as she went.

"_Mae aur, laes gwathel_ {good morning, baby sister}," Elladan picked her up effortlessly by the waist and swung her around twice before setting her back down on her feet. The short flight had caused her to loose hold of her half-bound hair and it now tumbled recklessly around her rather sour expression. However, the twinkle in her eye told Elladan that she was not really angry with him for messing up her hair, so he reached up and tousled it some more for good measure."

Arwen slapped him playfully on the shoulder before resting her head there. "You're absolutely terrible. I'm almost glad that you're leaving."

Elladan drew her closer to him and murmured, "Don't say that, I miss you already. Promise to take care of _ada _while I'm away?"

Arwen nodded. "I always do. In fact, I'm more worried about who's going to take care of _you _while you're away. When you travel with the Dúnedain you come home smelling like only the Valar knows what. I sometimes wonder if ever bathe at all. And I'm sure you don't get enough vegetables to eat when you men camp together."

Elladan chuckled. This was their normal farewell routine. The light banter helped them both to forget how sad they were at parting.

After a few more minutes of further mindless conversation, Elladan released his hold on his sister's waist and inquired, "Do you think father is in the courtyard?"

Nodding, Arwen mumbled, "He is no doubt waiting to give you some ominous words before parting."

"Well, let's get them over with then." Elladan grabbed her hand and started walking toward the stable yard.

~~~

"You shall be missed, _ion nín_."

Elladan bowed to his father. "And I shall miss you, _ada_. I feel in my heart that we shall meet again on these shores, but I shall ride with a watchful eye, nonetheless."

"It is well that you should. The days grow dark… very dark. My mind has been clouded of late. …But there are some things which I can still see clearly."

"And they are?" Elladan raised a questioning eyebrow.

Elrond smiled slightly. "You know me too well. Yes, I do have some wisdom to impart to Aragorn, though he may not wish to take it. I bid you tell him this: 'The days are short. If you are in haste, remember the words of the seer, and remember the Paths of the Dead.'"

Mounting his horse, Elladan turned back to his father and replied, "I shall tell him. Though you are right, he may not be very inclined to listen. Only time will tell."

Elladan was about to turn his horse to leave the city when Arwen came up to him bearing a long staff, wrapped round about with black cloth, as though it were a flag close-furled, and tied with several strips of leather.

"What is this?" Elladan inquired.

"It is for Estel. Halbarad* should rightfully bear it, being the closest to Estel. Will you bear it to him? He knows what I would have him do with it."

Nodding, Elladan took up the staff and directed his steed toward the entrance to the city. He didn't look back.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oloriel was caught between the desire for rest and the desire for movement, the desire to wait and the desire to act. Kallindo still hung upon the brink of death. She desperately wanted to be with him, and yet at the same time she did not want to see him in such a fallen state. His countenance the night before had been enough: eyes closed as in death, skin pale and clammy, body stiff, breaths shallow. She shuddered as the images began passing through her mind again. The spear jutting out of Kallindo's abdomen, his shocked expression, the sickening ooze of blood…

"Oloriel, are you alright?"

A hand came down upon Oloriel's shoulder and she jumped visibly. Looking up, her wide eyes met those of Nessúlë. When the words finally registered she swallowed and nodded as firmly as she could. "Yes, yes I'm fine thank you… just worried."

Nessúlë nodded sympathetically. "I didn't speak to him more than a few short times, but it is still terrible. And Írima seemed to know him well and she is very distressed. She is sitting with him and his mother now, trying to give what comfort she can. There are many others waiting in the outer rooms as well. Kallindo seems to have been well loved."

Oloriel nodded but made no move to reply.

"I am going back to look after the baby," Nessúlë continued. "Nimfallë cannot stay with her the whole morning. Do you want to come with me?"

Mustering up a genuine smile Oloriel declined the kind offer, saying that she was going to take a walk, but that she might drop by in the afternoon. Nessúlë bid farewell and departed.

Getting up slowly, Oloriel began to pace away from the healing rooms. She had to do something. Sitting there waiting was not going to help her frame of mind. 

As she walked, she began sorting out her thoughts concerning the future. If one thing had remained intact throughout the entire night it was the conviction that she had to take some sort of decisive action. She felt that she had changed in some way during the night, hardened or aged or woken up somehow. She knew that she could not go back to the way she was – to the way things were. The idea of remaining in her current position, living her normal life, and pretending like the world was as it used to be seemed insupportable. 

But what to change? Her only plan at the moment was to somehow reach Elladan. But she couldn't meet him before he went south. That meant that she would have to go to Rohan herself. She mentally abused herself for being so ignorant about the outside world. How would she ever survive alone, in a foreign country, which was ruled by Men no less! Her grasp of the Common Tongue was rusty at best. 

She sighed wearily. And there was another difficulty to consider: she had promised Elladan that she would seek 'wise counsel' and that she would _follow _that counsel. With such a vow she would have to be sure to ask the right person.

'Perhaps that's where I should start first," she thought to herself. It was, after all, better to take things one step at a time.

Who would give her a chance to explain? Who wouldn't keep her from going? Lady Galadriel might, perhaps… but then again, it was Galadriel that had put her under the care of Elladan, and if Elladan was not going to come for her then where did that leave her? Would Galadriel send an escort with her? That too was a possibility, but Oloriel would feel terrible for making several of the guard leave their posts to nanny her while Lothlórien was weathering such perilous times, not to mention the fact that she would be putting those guards in danger. She shook her head. No, this was her decision, her conviction – she did not want to drag others into it if she could help it.

Oloriel let her mind wander through other possibilities as she meandered down the wooded path. She was beginning to despair when suddenly an idea struck her. What about asking Nessúlë? She had enough sense to be considered wise, and yet enough fire and independence to not squelch her fervor. 

Oloriel smiled. She would give it some more thought, but she was satisfied for the moment. With at least some direction to her plan, and therefore some outlet for her pent up anger and sorrow, Oloriel was ready to turn back toward the Houses. It was time to visit Kallindo… while there was still time to do it.

***

Estel: "Hope" – one of Aragorn's many names Bess: "wife" or "young woman" – I like using this version of wife (as opposed to the more well known _hervess_) because I thought it would be kind of sweet for Celeborn to purposely use an endearment for his wife that has a youthful connotation. Dúnedain: "Men of the West" – Rangers from the north, Aragorn's kin, remnants of the race of Númenor. see RotK: Book I: Chapter II: "The Passing of the Grey Company" for all of the messages and for the introduction of Halbarad 

Things to Know:

Oloriel: "dream daughter"

Kallindo: "noble heard"

Nessúlë: "young spirit"

Írima: "lovely, desirable"

elleth: "she-elf"

melleth: "love" (noun)

bess: "wife"

mell: "dear"

er: "one" (person, not number)

mae aur: "good morning"

laes gwathel: "baby sister"

ion: "son"

Tiri-ol bor, melleth nín. Estel-in sa mîn-or gedi-tha-l îdh = literally, "Watching-you-are ever, my love. Hope-I that one-day catch-will-you rest" --- I've been using pronoun suffixes lately, that's why all the pronoun subjects are coming 'literally' in the 'wrong' places.

mell-or-pân = literally, "dear above all" --- I could remember the simple way of turning 'dear' into 'dearest', so I improvised.

Varna-mesta, má(-r-)aimë = Quenya, literally, "safe-journey, good hunting" --- már + raimë = máraimë 

~Iluvien~


	28. Madness is Catching

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

'*' signals a footnote

A/N: I'm taking some liberty with the timeline in this chapter. On the question of how long the Fellowship was in Lothlórien, Tolkien is rather ambiguous. It is mentioned that it *seemed* like they stayed there a long time, but when they left it also *seemed* like no time had passed at all. Therefore, I'm gonna do what I want. = )

____________________________

Chapter 28.) Madness is Catching

***

__

Much madness is divinest sense 

To a discerning eye

- Emily Dickinson

***

Recap: Three normal days since last chapter (if you want to say that time may pass differently in Lothlórien, or may *seem* to pass differently, go right ahead). Elladan is off to find the Dúnedain. Elrohir is somewhere between Lothlórien and Imladris. Oloriel is determined to leave the Golden Wood and to take her part in the struggle for Middle Earth.

Oloriel scrunched up her nose as she fine-tuned one of the strings on her harp. A new melody had been toying with her all morning, but she couldn't quite pin it down. It had been some while since she had devoted any significant amount of time to musical pursuits and she felt rather out of touch. However, it may have been her current state of mind and not her skill that was most to blame for her unimpressive progress.

Her main reason for picking up the harp that morning was that she hoped it would help to calm her nerves somewhat. The past week had been horrendous. It was believed that Kallindo had a fair chance for recovery, but he was still unconscious. No one knew when he would wake up. It was apparent that a great deal of his life energy was being funneled into the healing process. Even his breaths were still shallow.

But this was not the only source of her irritation. Since giving her promise to Elladan, she had been trying to work up the courage to accost Nessúlë and convince her to approve of her plan. But her attempts had been, thus far, unsuccessful. Her pre-planned speech always seemed to be lacking somewhat, and she was not thoroughly convinced that she would win the _elleth's _confirmation. One half of her wanted to skip the ordeal altogether, but the other half chafed at the idea of breaking her word – and to her beloved no less.

Oloriel impudently plucked a discordant chord on her harp and sighed heavily. She should never have made that promise to Elladan; it was causing her more grief than it was worth. She was determined to go. She would seek Nessúlë's advice, and if worse came to worse, she would simply ignore it. 

'Stop living in the shadows,' she commanded herself. 'Anyone who tells me not to go will be doing so for the wrong reasons: my inexperience and physical weaknesses have nothing to do with it. There is something that I must do, though I have yet to discover what it is. It has been appointed to me, and I must do it.'

With a decisive nod of her head, she placed her harp by the foot of her bed and went out to seek Nessúlë

~~~

"You are positively insane."

Nessúlë, who had previously been pacing through the room in agitation, now stood in front of Oloriel waiting for a response to her declaration. 

"Am not," Oloriel countered simply.

Nessúlë had to bite her tongue fiercely to keep from replying with "Are too" in elfling fashion. This last ditch effort at control was the last straw. Collapsing onto a nearby chair she let her incredulous laughter burst forth in unmitigated waves. The whole situation was too ridiculous – laughter was her only recourse to sanity.

Oloriel pursed her lips and waited for Nessúlë's mirth to subside. 

"I know that it is not practical, but destiny is rarely practical." Oloriel lifted her chin in dignified resolution.

Nessúlë just shook her head. "What does destiny have to do with anything, Oloriel. You're angry, and you're prepared to do something amazingly rash. What did you expect me to say?"

Slumping down into her chair, Oloriel muttered, "Exactly what you did say… But your words do not convince me." She let her head fall back with a sigh. "Nessúlë, I cannot ignore this feeling. I _know_ that I need to be ready when my time comes, and that it will _not_ come if I wait idly in this wood and rot. Something is happening… the world is growing dark outside, I can feel. We can all feel it. Things are moving. That odd fellowship that arrived a week ago, I believe they are part of it as well. And Elladan rides to the Land of the Horse Lords. Nothing will be as it once was, I know that, but… but if only the light can prevail, perhaps the world will still be a good and a lovely place."

Nessúlë was struck by the intense sincerity in Oloriel's eyes: like a precocious child who, not yet clouded by the complexities of life, can see the world with a startling clarity. And yet, she herself was embroiled in the complexities of life, and she couldn't look at things so simply.

"But, Oloriel," she began, "This is not truly our world. Despite the length of our stay, we have always been journeying to Valinor. That is our destination – it will be our true home for eternity."

Oloriel looked straight into Nessúlë's eyes and said a few words that would change her life forever: "Then why did you stay?"

Nessúlë rocked back in her chair with a dazed look, but did not reply.

"Why didn't you follow your parents to Valinor? Why did you risk your life to travel all the way to Lothlórien, so that you could meet an aunt that you barely knew? Why? It could not simply have been for adventure or experience. Certainly the lands of Valinor could provide enough open spaces and new sights to delight your fancy for millennia. And you are not even an explorer. You are a fighter, yes, and you are curious enough, but I think I know you well enough to say that the wander-lust is not in your blood." 

Nessúlë remained silent, looking out a window into the distance.

"This is your home," Oloriel continued, "Your heart still resides in Middle Earth. And though the sea will no doubt call you one day, until it does you cannot forsake this place… so do not ask me to forsake it either."

Without waiting for a reply, Oloriel stood up and walked slowly out of the room. She needed some fresh air, and some time to think. Grabbing her cloak at the doorway, she wandered outside into the sunshine.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aragorn let a gentle smile flit across his face as he folded up the parchment. He had read the letter from Arwen countless times, and he knew that he would read it several times more. It was something to hold on to. He had been thrilled to receive it, and could only regret that he had missed Elrohir, the messenger.

As he began to tuck the letter back inside his borrowed tunic, a soft humming reached his ears. Looking up, he saw an _elleth _walk into view with her eyes half closed. She seemed to be fairly concentrate on her little tune, for she would often repeat the same strain, perhaps changing it here and there, whilst the almost imperceptible tapping of her fingers against her dress seemed to be keeping time. 

The only reason that Aragorn had time to analyze her behavior was because she had stopped, perhaps unconsciously, in the middle of the path as she puzzled out the melody. After observing her for a few moments longer, he was somewhat surprised when she suddenly let out a rather unladylike growl and cried, "Oh, if only I could find the wretched thing!"

Aragorn couldn't help but smile and let out a cheeky reply. "Have you lost something, m'lady? It seems odd to go about looking for it with your eyes half closed."

Oloriel's eyes flew open at the unexpected interruption. She was about to snap back at whoever was the source of such a mocking tone, but when she met the good-hearted and merry eyes of Aragorn, she couldn't find it in herself to chide. Of course, right after she had read this tale in his eyes, she was struck forcefully by the thought that the person in front of her was no Elf of Lórien. Indeed, he was not an Elf at all!" 

"A man?" she blurted out rather discourteously? 

Aragorn spread his arms out as if to say 'I stand convicted.'

"You… you are one of the wanderers, aren't you?" The wheels in Oloriel's brain finally began to function. "I did not think that I should ever meet one."

Aragorn's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "You have never met a man before?"

Oloriel shrugged helplessly. "I have seen them from afar on several occasions, but never have I spoken with one." 

"Well then," Aragorn smiled warmly, "I hope I have not let down your expectations. Do you approve?"

Cocking her head to the side as if to get a better view of him, Oloriel examined him from head to two. "Well, you are certainly different. But you have a good and clever air about you… and a certain dignity as well. Yes, I think you have met my expectations admirably. Indeed, sir, I believe you have out-shined them, for I cannot say that I was expecting much grace or manners. But you know how rumors gets started, I dare say that all of us Elves have been stuck up in our trees far to long to have a proper understanding of those outside our borders."

"It is not my place to comment on that. Elves are wise and judicious in most ways, and it is fitting that you should be so. Anything less would not suit the First-born… But speaking of manners, pardon me for being so remiss in them. I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, called Estel by some in this wood."

Oloriel made a small curtsy. "Ah, now_ that _is a name I have heard before. And now that I think of it, you may just be one of those humans that I had the chance of 'spying from afar.' I am glad to finally make your acquaintance. I am Oloriel, daughter of Alkarin and Maldalossë." 

Aragorn rose from his seat on a log bench and swept up her hand in a formal greeting. "The pleasure is all mine, lady. And now that we are friends, may I inquire as to just what it is you werelooking for?"

A puzzled expression settled on Oloriel's face for a moment before she realized what he was referring to. "Oh! That… yes, well, I have been hearing half a tune in my head all morning, and I was trying to finish it, but it simply won't come out right."

"Alas, for I cannot help you with such a venture. I'm afraid you will have to search on your own."

"That is well, for it keeps my mind occupied from more distressing matters."

Aragorn's mind wondered at the meaning of those words, but the look on her face held him back from inquiring.

"But my lady, why didn't you say so? If it is diversion you are looking for, then I am at your service. You have met a man today, but have you ever met a Hobbit?"

Oloriel smiled cheerfully. "No, indeed. Although I have heard mention of them in a few books. I thought they must have disappeared by now."

"Nay, lady, they just prefer to keep to themselves. As long as they have food enough, they are generally content to stay at home. And speaking of food, I believe that we shall find them devouring luncheon as we speak. Shall we join them?"

Aragorn held out his arm to her and she took it willing. "Lead on."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

That evening found Oloriel curled up in a comfortable chair with a good book and a cup of hot tea. She had spent a lovely afternoon with the four Hobbits at the base of the Great Mallorn, but had not felt as if she should over-stay her welcome. She also did not want to intrude upon Nessúlë this evening, for she felt that the other _elleth_ would come to her if she had anything to say. And so, with these two options nixed, she had settled on a quiet evening between herself and _One Day in the Woods_, a favorite childhood fairy story.

She was just at the part when Camgwenn and the Prince realize that they have been trapped inside the enchanted grotto, when a nock came at the door of her flet. Setting the old book aside with loving care, Oloriel wrapped her shawl more tightly about her figure, and made her way over to the doorway. Nessúlë was waiting on the other side. As soon as the wood panel swung away, she spoke.

"Fine then, I'm coming with you."

Oloriel stood dumbfounded for a moment, and so Nessúlë took the opportunity to slip inside and poor herself some tea from the pot in the hearth. After a few moments, Oloriel finally gained enough composure to close the door and move a few random items from a chair, so that Nessúlë could sit down.

"You're… coming with me?"

Nessúlë smiled cheerfully. "Well of course I am! You don't think I would let you do something as idiotic as this without taking my own part in the fun, do you? Besides, I'd never forgive myself if I let you go all alone."

Oloriel shook her head fiercely. "I don't want you to feel responsible for me, or to come because you feel duty-bound."

"Why ever not?" Nessúlë replied. "You're going because you feel it's your duty, why shouldn't I? Besides, if I only felt responsible for you I should simply tell of your plans to someone with a little more sense who could put a stop to this madness. But, I shan't do that, because I think you would hate me forever. No, you shall go, and I shall go with you. And if we end up getting ourselves killed, then at least we will enjoy the comfort of making our merry way to the Halls of Mandos together."

Oloriel shivered involuntarily. "Let us not speak so morbidly just yet, shall we?"

Nessúlë cocked her head to the side. "Was I being morbid?"

A smile flitted across Oloriel's face before taking up permanent residence. "You are the maddest _elleth_ I have ever met… and I thank you for it, from the very bottom of my heart. I have to confess that I did feel a bit daunted at undertaking the whole wide world by myself." Sticking out her hand, she continued, "We'll be lunatic together then?"

Nessúlë nodded resolutely and clasped Oloriel's hand firmly. "Aye," she said, giving a few shakes for the bargain, "Lunatic to the very end."

*~*~*~ Next Day ~*~*~*

Oloriel pushed a branch aside to get better view of the company at the water's edge. The Fellowship was departing that morning, and she had wanted to see them off. However, she was now unsure of how to approach them. She had only met Aragorn and the Hobbits the day before, and had only exchanged a few brief words of greeting with the others. In all truthfulness, she didn't even know why she had come. Certainly, there was something about Aragorn that captured her attention, but it was a very indefinite feeling, and not one that she could pin down.

Finally, with a resigned shrug she stepped out into the clearing and approached the boats in the water. She walked slowly so as not to draw much attention to herself. There were other Elves around, helping to load supplies into the boats, and so her appearance was not exceptional. After a few moments of skirting the general area of activity, Aragorn happened to turn around and catch her gaze. Recognizing her immediately, he smiled and called a "Good morning, lady" to her. His salutations caught the attention of two of the Hobbits, and they greeted her as well. With this encouragement, she strolled closer and offered her own salutations.

"So you are off then?" Oloriel felt silly asking such an obvious question, but she shrugged off the feeling.

"Aye, that we are," Aragorn nodded as he bent down to stow another bag into the boat. 

"I hope that you fare well, _Estel o Edain_{Hope of Men}. And, may I be so bold as to make my own contribution to this end?"

Oloriel held out a small package to Aragorn, who eyed it curiously.

"'Tis a few herbs and ointments which may prove useful to you. Doubtless you have already been provided for in the way of such things, but I think you will find a few pleasant surprises in there: things which are not often needed, but are of infinite help when they are."

Aragorn bowed his head politely and accepted the small, brown parcel. "Thank you, lady. A very thoughtful gesture, though I hope we never have need of it."

Oloriel smiled her agreement. "As do I. Farewell, then. I must be on my way. Good day to you, Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck. Try not to stuff yourself with Lembas too quickly."

The two Hobbits in question smiled somewhat bashfully and murmured their assurances for future conduct, meanwhile eyeing the scattered leaf wrappings in the bottom of the boat.

With her mission accomplished, Oloriel turned swiftly to leave, only to have her progress halted by collision with a short, armored personage. 'The Dwarf!' Oloriel thought frantically, 'I had hoped to avoid him.'

However, avoidance was now out of the question. The Dwarf had tottered about for a moment, and though rescued from a tumble into the river by the quick reflexes of Legolas, he had lost his load, and was now muttering profusely about the inconvenience of overly hasty Elves.

Oloriel reddened slightly, but bit her tongue. This Dwarf was a guest in Lothlórien, and should be treated as such.

"Forgive me, sir Dwarf," she finally managed to say, stooping down quickly to pick up the last of his fallen gear, "I _seem_ to be at fault." She wouldn't go so far as to say she _was _at fault. After all, he had been walking right behind her, and, well… he was a Dwarf after all!

Legolas smiled knowingly over Gimli's head at her, and she realized that he probably had a good idea of what was going on inside her mind. His demeanor was not quite censuring, but neither could she say that he entirely approved. Feeling slightly disconcerted by this she made her apology once more and departed. The Elf couldn't really have a liking for that Dwarf, could he? 

*~*~*~Seven Days Later~*~*~*

Elladan watched lazily as his breath clouded in the frigid air before him. He turned his head slightly downward and let his gaze wander over the lightly frost-covered ground. It was ironic, really, this deadly beauty. Small glints and shimmers caught his eye as the moonlight glanced off the crystalline winter robe that nature drew on at night. He knew that the men around him were feeling the sharp tang of the air, despite their thick woolen cloaks and the Númenorean blood that ran through their veins.

It felt like such a long time since he had been there last, just a day after he had met Oloriel. It was an odd feeling. For Elves, time usually seemed to flow rather quickly: days, turning into years, turning into centuries without pause, without thought. But Elladan still felt rather dazed from all that had happened in this short time. In many ways it was as if he had been transformed into an entirely new person. His morose views and solitary ways seemed to have been washed away, leaving him with an overwhelming sense of being newly awaked.

Standing up from his crouching position, Elladan shook these thoughts out of his mind and glanced back at the small cottage, nestled in the trees behind him. It belonged to an old, grizzled man named Gathrim, who had tended to an arrow wound in Elladan's arm the last time he had been there. 

Elladan had met the man several times before that, but had never gotten to know him much. The man was, for lack of a better word, an irritable curmudgeon in most respects. It was said that, when young, he had been husband to a hale and beautiful lady, but that their history proved to be a tragic one; one which sent him into the wilderness to lick his wounds. However, despite his dubious past and temperament, he had always proved to be a stalwart ally to the Dúnedain, helping when he could and stubbornly resisting all things evil and of dark purpose. 

Elladan smiled slightly as he saw Gathrim make a dramatic entry onto the scene, throwing the door of his cottage wide open and gazing sternly across the group of sleeping men at his doorstep. His hawk eyes seemed to be sizing them up, bushy eyebrows settled into a calculating "V". With an ambiguous sniff, he turned back in and disappeared into the doorway. Of the few times that Elladan had sojourned in this small, two room house, he could not remember having ever seen Gathrim sleep.

Sleep. Elladan would have been sleeping himself at that moment if it were not for the ever-present shadow of danger that surrounded them. One could never be overly watchful in these parts of the wilderness. Foul things lurked near the foot of the mountains. In fact, foul things lurked almost everywhere in those days, making a constant guard necessary. Elladan knew that he was more capable of functioning without sleep than were the Second-born, and so he stood watch while the men slept. He did not look forward to the next few weeks, for this would certainly become the general pattern. No doubt he would often go for several days at a time without even being able to spend a few hours with Oloriel. Of course, they were still able to speak in spurts, and hear each other's thoughts, but it was not enough. Elladan's eyes narrowed slightly as he realized where his thoughts had turned yet again. 'I'm hopeless, utterly hopeless.'

As Elladan was mentally chiding himself for his lovesick meanderings a noise from out on the plain caught his attention. Hoof beats: the faint sound of hoof beats was floating through the air. Of course, considering his acute hearing, this meant that the horse, and presumably a rider with him, was some ways off yet. However, preparations should still be made. Elladan was expecting a few more Rangers to arrive at the muster, so it was likely that this rider was a friend, but they should be ready to meet anything. He made his way over to Corin, the other watcher on duty, and whispered his findings. Ten minutes later the two of them stood at the ready, bows poised to fire into the shadows as soon as a threat should become apparent.

After a minute or two of tense watching, Elladan caught a faint glimpse of their quarry: a man, shrouded in a gray cloak, riding toward the circle of firelight on a proud steed. The man did not have his weapon drawn.

Before Elladan could hail him the man lifted up his hand, palm outward, in a sign of peace. He then threw back his hood, revealing his welcomed identity.

"Halbarad, greetings! I began to despair of you," Elladan whispered loudly.

Halbarad grinned and answered him in an equally moderate tone, so as not to disturb the sleepers. "I would not neglect the summons of Aragorn. When do we ride out?"

"At first light," Corin spoke up for the first time.

Halbarad acknowledged Corin's presence with a cordial nod. 

"I suppose then that I shall try to rest until that time. Do you need another set of eyes for the watch?"

"Nay, Halbarad," Elladan assured him, "Sleep while you can."

*~*~*~The Next Day~*~*~*

Oloriel sat pensively by the bed and watched Kallindo's chest rise and fall in gentle rhythm. She had heard that at some point during the afternoon he had regained consciousness, but she had not be there to witness it. Now he slept peacefully, his breathing regular.

They were leaving tonight. Nessúlë was gathering the horses as Oloriel sat beside Kallindo's bed. She had come to say good-bye. 

Pushing the sheet back, she lifted up his tunic to see how his wound had been tended. The bandages were well wrapped and everything seemed in order. She sighed softly. This was the turning point. Should she be satisfied with the fact that Kallindo had lived and just give up on her daft scheme? It seemed very tempting at the moment. The room was warm, and she could hear gentle music wafting in through the window. Outside of the wood she knew that the weather was cold and rather unforgiving. She knew that she would have to fight to survive, that she might never find Elladan, that if she did, he might simply send her home, that Nessúlë could get seriously injured helping her, and that, in the end, perhaps none of what she did would even matter. Shouldn't she be satisfied with Kallindo's recovery and leave well enough alone?

She bent her head and let her hand rest on top of Kallindo's. And then, without thought she began to sing quietly. 

__

May it be an evening star shines down upon you  
May it be when darkness falls your heart will be true

  
Oloriel's voice faltered before continuing, even more faintly.

  
_You walk a lonely road_

Oh how far you are from home…

May it be the shadows call will fly away  
May it be your journey on to light the day  
When the night is overcome   
You may rise to find the sun

Mornië utúlië (Darkness has come)

__

Believe and you will find your way

Mornië alantië (Darkness has fallen)

__

A promise lives within you now…

Oloriel brushed a stray lock of hair from Kallindo's face. As she did so, she thought of all the other wives and daughters, husbands and sons, parents and children, and friends that were perhaps at that same moment leaning anxiously over the ashen face of a loved one, begging them to awaken, to return to them. Kallindo was not the only casualty of war, nor the only dear one to have been struck down by the enemy. Yes, her world had survived this last attack, but how much longer would it hold? And even if it did hold, how many other worlds, how many other hopes and dreams would fall apart? This wasn't simply about her.

Leaning forward, she placed a light kiss on Kallindo's forehead and whispered a prayer over him. Then, getting up and turning toward the doorway, she said a prayer for herself.

"_A_ _Ilúvatar, togo anim bo senlond. Im boë lín maerist. _{Oh All-father(God), lead me on this path. I need your wisdom}"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I wish that we needn't have passed through the gates. We may have satisfied the guard's inquiries, but they will still know that we left, and when, and in which direction we turned."

Nessúlë worried at her lip restlessly as she considered all the pitfalls of their plan. Oloriel just tilted her head up the stars and took in a deep breath.

"It could not be helped – not if we wanted the horses. I suppose that we could have gone the opposite way and tried to throw them off a bit, but the wardens could easily track us either way. We will simply have to ride hard once we reach the plain… and not look back."

"Aye," Nessúlë agreed soberly. 

Silence.

"I can't believe we're doing this," Nessúlë's voice was slightly strained. "I can't believe I'm doing this to my brother. He's going to be lost for a while, and then we he finds me, he's going to half-kill me for running off like this… that is, if I'm not already dead. I must be insane."

Oloriel let her gaze come down to rest upon the _elleth _riding next to her. "Aye, _mellon nín _{my friend}, you are. But we live in a mad world, so it is not such a very bad thing in the end."

Nessúlë chuckled softly. "No… no, perhaps it is not."

It was at this moment that both maidens felt a tugging in their minds. The wood around them seemed to brighten for a moment before snapping back to reality, and then a voice flowed softly into their minds. 

//_Naband, nethmaethyr, galu garanle_//{Be safe, young warriors, blessings go with you}

Oloriel and Nessúlë both jumped slightly and then met each other's gazes.

"She knows," Oloriel whispered softly, "The Lady knows."

***

Things to Know:

A Ilúvatar, togo anim bo sen-lond. Im boë lín maer-ist = literally, "Oh all-father, lead me on this-path. I need your good-knowledge" --- couldn't find Sindarin word for wisdom.

Na-band, neth-maethyr, galu gar-an-le = literally, "Be safe, young-warriors, blessings hold-to-you" --- na = "be" is a bit iffy, but I went with it. --- maethryn - pl. of meathor = "warrior".


	29. Things Are Moving

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

'*' signals a footnote

****

A/N: There are a few parts in this chapter that I take directly from the book b/c I couldn't think of a better way to say it. I think there are three such parts – they'll be italicized a very obvious. I hope I got the Ents right. I didn't want to go on an on about them b/c Tolkien did such a good job on them and I can't follow that kind of act. I just hope I wasn't too brief.

___________________________

Chapter 29.) Things Are Moving

***

__

Out in the sky the great dark clouds are massing

I look far out into the pregnant night

And catch the gleaming of a random light

- Paul Laurence Dunbar

***

Recap: Oloriel and Nessúlë are off on their wild adventure. They rode south from Lothlórien, staying near the mountains. Elladan and the Rangers are on the move. Four days since last chapter.

Elladan rode up over the crest of the hill with anxious speed. It had been fifteen days since Elladan had sent the falcons out with a message for Elrohir, telling him to be at ——— in two weeks time. Elladan could only hope that their late arrival had given Elrohir the time he needed to make the rendezvous. 

When Elladan finally broke from the cover of the trees he scanned the area quickly. The place seemed deserted, but this did not necessarily mean anything, good or ill. Elrohir would not be fool enough to loiter around in the open, so it was natural that this glade at the foot of the mountains should appear empty and undisturbed.

Halbarad and several of the other Rangers came up alongside Elladan as he finished his survey of the area. They were silent as Elladan called out in a moderately loud voice, "Elrohir, show yourself if you are here."

With hardly a breath of a sound, the form of an elf dropped gracefully down from the branches directly across from where the Gray Company* was waiting. With a cheeky grin, Elrohir straightened up and began to saunter toward them.

"Come now, brother," he chided, "Is your eyesight getting as bad as all that?"

Elladan just shook his head in exasperation. "Watch your tongue, youngling, and remember who invited you along."

Elrohir's eyes narrowed slightly. Elladan had held the fact of his eleven-minute seniority over Elrohir's head since they were children.

Deciding not to retaliate, Elrohir put his fingers up to his lips for a sharp, long whistle. Moments later, his horse came trotting out from the underbrush with twigs and leaves in his hair. Elrohir just rolled his eyes. If that horse was given but a moment of freedom he was bound to take a roll in the grass.

"When did you arrive?" Elladan asked.

"Late last night. And I would have despaired of you, thinking that you had already gone on and that I would have to ride without sleep to catch you, had I not kept one of father's falcons with me." At this, Elrohir broke off to look up at the trees. "He's still around here somewhere. It was he that spied your company from the air and was able to tell me that it was in fact _you _who were late."

Halbarad broke into the conversation then. "Well then we thank him for it. It wouldn't have done any good for you to go riding off into the south, chasing after phantoms. What a pretty lot of fools we would look then? But I'm afraid you'll have to excuse your brother's tardiness, Elrohir, it was mostly I that made the expedition start out late."

Elrohir sighed, "That is unfortunate. Now I shall have to contrive some other matter to harass him over."

"Come," Elladan declared, pointedly ignoring the barb, "We have much ground to cover and the day is still young. Mount up brother, as follow as you can – Rohan awaits."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"It's no use!" Nessúlë declared petulantly, "This forest is set against us, I can feel it. We'll never find our way through it at this rate."

Oloriel gazed forlornly at the dark weave of branches above her. Against what some might perceive as good sense, they had crossed the threshold of Fangorn Forest in the afternoon two days past in order to seek cover, and were now rather lost. The sky was almost totally obliterated by the verdant canopy overhead, leaving their path murky and uncertain. Oloriel could no longer seem to tell which direction they were moving in, and the trees were of no help at all; in fact, they seemed to be down right hostile to the she-elves' presence.

"What shall we do then?" Oloriel finally replied. "I can't say for certain which way will lead us out, so there doesn't seem to be much else for it but to keep moving."

"There must be some way to get a look about us. I am may not be a Silvan elf, but I would climb one of these trees if I didn't think that it would cast me back down again. I don't like the feel of them."

"Neither do I," Oloriel murmured, "but perhaps we will come to a rise of land that can afford us a better view."

"That would be lovely," Nessúlë replied in an exasperated tone, "But it's not very likely, is it?"

~~~

"Look! Over there – a patch of sunlight!" Nessúlë turned back to Oloriel with a broad grin. "Perhaps we may make it out of this gloom after all."

With lightened spirits, the two _elleths _urged their horses toward the small shower of light. They were even more heartened when they discovered what was to be seen there. A sheer incline, as though it were the tip of some long root thrust out from the mountains, stood before them. And in it, whether created naturally or otherwise, was a sort of rough stair which lead up to a high cliff. From there they would be able to see just above the tree line. 

The two companions climbed up the large steps with dexterity. As they ascended out of the trees, the air became sweet and light, allowing them to breathe more freely. 

"I am so glad to be in the presence of Anor* once more!"

Oloriel smiled at Nessúlë's enthusiasm. "Indeed, it is a pleasant change. And what is more, I finally have a bearing on where we are. There is the silver strip of the Entwash. If we can keep our wits about us, we should be able to reach the edge of the wood before nightfall."

"And then where to?" Nessúlë threw an inquiring glance in Oloriel's direction. "Have we had any inspirations yet?"

Oloriel tilted her head to the side and gazed out over the misty green vista before her. "We'll know once we get there."

Further conversation was then halted by the sound of a creaking and rustling behind them, accompanied by a deep, reverberating rumble.

"_Hum, Hroom, _what have we here?" The rumble developed into a deep-throated rendition of the Common Tongue. "Little she-elves? _Hmm…_What have you come here for? And why are you so_ hasty _to leave my forest? And what will you _learn_ when you reach its border?"

Both Nessúlë and Oloriel had reached for their weapons at the first sound. They now gripped them with greater determination and steeled themselves to turn around and meet their assailant. With hitched breath, the _elleths_ swung around and brought their blades to the ready. For a few split seconds they were bewildered, unsure of where the mysterious voice had come from. But then it struck them with amazing force that, melting into the background of wood and bark and leaves that adorned the bluff, was a definite figure, and that staring out from that figure, unblinking, were two fathomless eyes.

Treebeard stared at them complacently, allowing them to assess his presence. He was not afraid of them. It was true that not all Elves in the history of the world had been good, but such examples were few and far between. And the Elves loved the trees, and had taught them how to speak. This was enough to keep the agéd Ent from acting hastily toward them. 

"Nessúlë…" Oloriel called out to her friend in a tremulous voice. "Did… _he _just speak?"

Nessúlë nodded but did not answer, her tongue being rendered almost useless by her shock.

"Did you understand everything he said?" Oloriel whispered this time, never letting her eyes wander away from the silent form in front of them. "All I can discern is that he knows we are Elves, and that he knows of our intention to leave the forest."

"I think… I think he, if he is a "He", wants to know our business… but we can't tell him, can we? Who knows where his allegiances lie."

Oloriel nodded her ascent. "How do you think he can understand us?"

A small shifting of limbs on Treebeard's part startled both the _elleths _and made them step several paces back. Treebeard understood them well enough. Sindarin was as hasty a tongue as most non-_treeish_ languages, but he had taken the time to study it many ages before. He thought about informing them, but decided that there was no need to rush anything; therefore, he merely blinked a few times and tilted his head slightly to get a better view of them. She-elves were such small things.

This was as much as the two maidens could cope with. The Ent's eyes were so piercing, and his stature so imposing that they felt a better acquaintance was not at all necessary at that time.

"He looks slow," Nessúlë murmured conspiratorially, "I think we can out-run him."

"I agree," Oloriel replied, looking hastily over her shoulder to ascertain that the horses were still very close by. "Now!"

With racing pulses and quick steps the two companions fairly flew down the rugged incline and leapt gracefully onto their horses, not bothering to look back at the solemn Ent, who remained standing on the ledge with a quizzical look adorning his face.

Thankfully, amid their hurry and bustling, Oloriel and Nessúlë still managed to keep a firm grasp on their heading, straight toward the Entwash, and toward Rohan.

~~~

As night began to creep across the sky, the trees of Fangorn gradually grew thinner, giving way in turn to the grass-covered, rippling plains of the East Emnet*. The girls were fatigued and somewhat intimidated by finally coming face to face with their destination, and so it really did seem like an opportune moment to make camp for the night and avoid altogether the question of where to go next. 

Nessúlë, being eager to sleep beneath the stars, had urged Oloriel to set up their bivouac in the plains. But there was something in the air that night which had pricked at the consciousness of the Lothlórien maiden, making her wary and uncertain. She pleaded with Nessúlë to come back with her into the trees, and to make sure that any fire she built was both small and well protected from view. Nessúlë finally acquiesced and, after standing beneath the stars for some time, came back underneath the eaves of the forest to eat her supper and sleep.

It was not until the morning that Oloriel's suspicions were confirmed. 

As the sun began to wash across the open grasslands that day, the _elleths _stood on the brink of the forest, bathed in golden light. They were silent and serious, concentrating their unbelieving eyes on a hazy dark mass in the distance.

"It is… you were right, my friend. Danger is afoot."

Oloriel nodded silently, "_Yrch _{Orcs}, and more of them than we'll ever be able to manage." 

A silent discomfort hung in the air between them as they both realized that they weren't at all sure how much they _could_ "manage". 

"Shall we turn back or go forward? Do you think they can see us from here?"

Shrugging helplessly, Oloriel scuffed the ground beneath her with her soft leather boot and murmured, "I don't know… But I think that perhaps we should wait here."

Nessúlë shot a disbelieving glance in Oloriel's direction.

"No, no, not _here _here," Oloriel clarified, "But in the forest. …I feel as though we should stay – stay and see what they are about."

Something about the way she spoke gave Nessúlë pause. There was more to all of this than met the eye. Things were moving, as Oloriel had once said, things that Nessúlë didn't pretend to understand. But for now, she would simply have to trust Oloriel and follow her lead. At least she could take some comfort in the fact that, while the trees may not have been very welcoming to their presence, orcs would likely engender a far worse reaction. 

~~~

It was late that night when their course of action was finally decided for them. All through the morning the maidens had waited in nervous anticipation for the Orcs to arrive. However, in the afternoon their nervousness changed into astonishment, for from out of the southeast had come a host of riders, fair haired and armored. For several hours not much could be said of them, except that they appeared to pursue the Orc host. But, when a better view could be seen, Oloriel was convinced that these were indeed the Horse Lords, and her heart was lightened for the discovery. 

As night fell the hoard of Orcs stopped at the top of a small hill, surrounded on all sides by the Rohirrim. However, neither company dove in for the kill. The riders set up watch fires all around the area, but stayed out of arrow's reach, and the Orcs milled around the hillock, quick beady eyes scanning the forest as though looking for something.

Their gaze made Oloriel shiver, but she did not have to endure it for long. Soon many of the Orcs abandoned their vigilance and turned to petty quarrels or sleep. Meanwhile the Horse Lords stood watch, waiting for the sun to return and aid them in their cause.

Several hours had passed before it all began to happen. Oloriel and Nessúlë, having both felt an evil presence, retreated somewhat northward and found shelter within a close-knit group of saplings. It was well that they had done so, for to their surprise, another group of orcs came stomping through the trees out into the plain. The riders dispatched with them quickly enough, at little cost to themselves, and were able to maintain their perimeter around the first Orc band. However, they were not so quick-sighted as to prevent two small figures from escaping their net.

Fortunately, Elven eyes can see many things, and they are keen to spot the face of a friend.

"Merry and Pippin!" Oloriel cried in quiet though excited voice. "How have they come to be here?"

Nessúlë narrowed her eyes as she bent down to avoid a branch as they walked. The two forms were blinking in and out through the trees, but she could discern that they were short, somewhat stout, and curly headed.

"You know them," she inquired.

"Aye. They were…" Oloriel faltered, "They were part of the company that passed through Lothlórien some days past… But what can have happened to the others? They cannot be dead."

Nessúlë had never met the others, but could hear the sorrow that filled Oloriel's voice. "Whatever the fortunes of the others, these two are not dead and are currently making their way into a very perilous region. They are going exactly in the direction from which we came. Come, if they are of good heart we must try to protect them. They do not strike me as hale warriors, and will likely be eaten alive should they come across some evil thing. If you were looking for a revelation, Oloriel, I think this is it."

Oloriel paused for a moment and then nodded slowly. "Aye, Nessúlë, I think you may be right."

~~~

Nothing could quite describe Oloriel's embarrassment when she discovered that an Ent was nothing either evil or dark of purpose. She and Nessúlë had followed the hobbits silently until they reached the same out-look from which they had spied the Entwash, and when Treebeard had revealed himself again the two sallied forth in an attempt to "rescue" them. However, Treebeard had already taken them up in his arms. This gave him the leverage to direct the conversation and sort things out. The Hobbits learned that they had been followed by two elven friends, the Elves learned that an Ent was not so very bad after all, and the Ent learned that a Hobbit was _not _an Orc, and added their names to the 'old lists'.

Much more there is to tell, of Wellinghall and Fangorn and Ent Draughts, and of the adventures of Merry and Pippin up until that time, but it has all been recorded before, and very skillfully too. All that need be known now is that, on the following morning, the _elleths _and the Hobbits went with Treebeard to Entmoot in Derdingle for the telling of news and for the deciding of actions – and decide the Ents did. Ents may not be quick to anger, but when they are roused their rage and strength is mighty indeed. Much was told at Entmoot of the treachery of Saruman, the growing shadows, and the destruction of trees; much was said to stir those ancient and noble hearts.

It was late in the afternoon when the moment came. The she-elves and Hobbits had gone away with Bregalad, that is Quickbeam in the Common Tongue, to his ent-house nearby and were awaiting the decision. _Suddenly they were aware that everything was very quiet; the whole forest stood in listening silence. Of course, the Ent-voices had stopped. What did that mean? Bregalad was standing up erect and tense, looking back northwards toward Derdingle._

Then with a crash came a great ringing shout: ra-hoom-rah! The trees quivered and bent as if a gust had struck them. There was pause, and then a marching music began like solemn drums, and above the rolling beats and booms there welled voices singing high and strong.

We come, we come with roll of drum:

Ta-runda runda runda rom!

We come, we come with horn and drum: 

ta-rûna rûna rûba rin!

Before long they saw the marching ling approaching: the Ents were swinging along with great strides down the slope towards them. Treebeard was at their head, and some fifty fillowers were behind him, two abreast, keeping step with their feet and beating time with their hands upon their flanks. As they drew near the flash and flicker of their eyes could be seen.

The Ents were going to war.

~~~

Neither Oloriel nor Nessúlë would forget how small they felt on the following day as they watched the great Ents raze the walls of Isengard. It was a sight to behold which words can hardly express. _They pushed, pulled, tore, shook, and hammered… It was staggering. They roared and boomed and trumpeted, until stones began to crack and fall at the mere noise of them… Round and round the rock of Orthanc the Ents went striding and storming like a howling gale, breaking pillars, hurling avalanches of boulders down the shafts, tossing up huge slabs of stone into the air like leaves_. And then, when all save the tower was torn into ruin, they broke the dams and diverted the water, cleansing Orthanc once and for all of its evil filth.

Once again Oloriel had to readjust her views concerning Ents. They were gentle and methodical, yes, but only toward that which was of good purpose and heart. Ents were serious creatures: hard and wise.

After the commotion, in which Oloriel and Nessúlë played but a little part, a watch was set up to guard the tower. Saruman still resided in his black spire and could not be drawn out. 

It was with spinning heads and weary eyes that Oloriel finally laid down with her companions to sleep. Merry and Pippin seemed more sober than usual, and Nessúlë was absentmindedly stroking the petals of a soft flower. She had found it, alive and well by some miracle, hidden away in a crack by the eastern wall of Orthanc. Something had bid her to take it up before the waters came to cover.

Oloriel looked at her three silent companions and smiled sadly. 'We all seem to have grown a bit more serious after this day. It is no wonder… I shall never forget what I have seen.'

Though their part had been small and largely unnecessary, both Oloriel and Nessúlë had proved themselves for the first time in battle. Oloriel had killed five: four with her arrows, but one at close range. An Orc had made it past the Ents and had sprung up behind her. After some tussling on the ground, she had finally managed to grasp one of the long knives that Kallindo had given her and thrust it up into the Orc's ribcage. She had a full view of his face as she did so, and didn't think that she would ever forget it. For the first time in her life she had actually felt what she believed was referred to by humans as queasiness.

She had found a small trickle of clean water with which to wash, but it hadn't done much good. She was still covered in grime and reeked with the smell of blood and smoke. But after such a day, she didn't care any more. With a few words of encouragement to Nessúlë and the Hobbits, she lay down onto a clean patch of grass and fell asleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan cast a worried look in Oloriel's direction. This was one of the few times since the beginning of his journey where he had given himself leave to rest, but Oloriel's conspicuous silence was setting his mind on edge. It seemed a pity to him, for time passed in Elven dreams much as they do in human ones: it might be brief or it might seem quite prolonged, but when it was over it felt as though hardly any time had passed at all. Elladan didn't want to waste that precious time.

"Oloriel, are you alright?"

Oloriel turned and looked back at him with a forlorn expression. She was sitting slightly in front of him and to the side, knees pulled up to her chest. For a reason which Elladan could not discern, she had kept a small distance between them, and seemed to want to keep to herself.

"I… no, not really."

Elladan raised his eyebrows inquisitively. He hadn't expected Oloriel to be so honest. Taking that as a good sign, he stretched out his hand to her and spoke again. "Can I help?"

Oloriel let her head fall sideways onto her knees and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. This perusal went on for a moment or two before she whispered, "I hope so." Then, with a quiet yielding, she crept closer to him and let his arms enclose her in a safe and warm embrace.

*~*~*~Four Days Later~*~*~*

Aragorn rode with Gandalf and King Théoden of Rohan at the head of the company as they made their way from the Ford of Isen toward Orthanc. Directly behind them rode Legolas, with Gimli, and Éomor, while a company of twenty Rohirrim formed their rearguard. The Battle of Helm's Deep and been wan, and now Gandalf came to parley with Saruman and make him see reason. 

The ruin of Orthanc was a sight indeed. _The doors lay hurled and twisted on the ground. And all about, stone, cracked and splintered into countless jagged shards, was scattered far and wide, or piled in ruinous heaps… The ring beyond was filled with steaming water: a bubbling cauldron, in which there heaved and floated a wreckage of beams and spars, chests and casks and broken gear. _

But, in contrast to all these sight was a most curious and bewildering sight. Near to the gates, on a pile of rubble sat two Hobbits, one fast asleep and one smoking a pipe, surrounded by bowls and bottles and platters, with very content looks plastered across their round faces. Before a few moments had past, the pipe-smoking Hobbit noticed their arrival and jumped to attention. 

__

"Welcome, my lords, to Isengard!" he said, "We are the doorwardens. Meriadoc, son of Saradoc, is my name; and my companion, who, alas! is overcome with weariness, is Peregrin, son of Paladin of the House of Took."

As he spoke another figure and tentatively stepped out of the shadow the great arch that still stood standing.

"Ah yes," Merry continued, "And we are also accompanied by the fair and valiant Ladies Oloriel and Nessúlë of Lothlórien." With a very Hobbit-like enthusiasm he whispered conspiratorially, "Didn't think to see them here, eh Strider?"

Aragorn raised a slightly imperious eyebrow, and brushed his gaze over the uncommon company. No, indeed he had not.

Thus, with merely a few words, Merry had managed to rouse up a whole storm of question. Where was Saruman? What had brought them to this place? Where did they find the food? And, not least of all, how did two young elf-maidens find their way to Orthanc?

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan leaned over the neck of his horse, as the ground past swiftly beneath them. He smiled with satisfaction at the time they were making. If they rode through the night, they would pass the Fords of Isen by the morning. Rohan was almost within their grasp. The only question that remained was, would Aragorn really be there?

***

1. I figured that I might as well start calling them that, since that's how Tolkien referred to them after they met up with Aragorn.

2. The sun.

3. According to my map, Rohan is divided into several sections: the Westfold, the Eastfold, the West Emnet, the East Emnet, and the Wold. The West Emnet, the East Emnet, and the Wold all border Fangorn.

Things to Know:

elleth: "she-elf"

I don't even think I need to keep saying that… you guys are smart, you can figure it out. = ) 

~Iluvien~

P.S. Everyone review! I know I took forever to get the last chapter out, and I know that most of you probably did what I usually do which is, if it's been several days since the post, be less inclined to review. But it kind of made me nervous, b/c I thought that maybe three weeks had strained the attention span of my audience. I hope not. Thankfully I've got spring break next week so you should get a whole other brand-spankin' new chapter in relatively short order. 


	30. Friends, Fainting, and Fondling

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

'*' signals a footnote

****

A/N: I'm in a slight quandary. So far this story has assumed that everyone is speaking in Elvish; however, now characters are coming along that speak the Common Tongue. Therefore…

I'm going to put "***" in front of all sentences spoken **by**Oloriel or Nessúlë **in **the Common Tongue. I figure that I don't need to worry about Legolas, since he's fluent in both. I hope this works out. Tell me if you can think of a better way of doing this.

****

And remember, Oloriel and Nessúlë aren't extremely fluent in the Common Tongue. _________________________________

Chapter 30.) Friends, Fainting, and Fondling

***

__

I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,  
your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy, golden storm…   
- Leonard Cohen

***

Recap: Oloriel and Nessúlë met up with Merry, Pippin, and Treebeard in Fangorn Forest. They witnessed the sacking of Isengard, and were on hand when Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Gandalf, and King Théoden's company arrived to reason with Saruman.

Oloriel looked up timidly as she handed a loaf of bread to Aragorn. Ever since the two elf maidens had made themselves known, an uncertain curiosity hung thick in the air, but as yet no one seemed to be making the desired inquiries. 

Gandalf and Théoden had ridden eastward around the wall in search of Treebeard, but the Elf, Dwarf, and Dúnedan had remained behind to hear news from their Hobbit friends and to partake in the bounteous spoils to be found in the Isengard storage houses. The latter activity was what occupied them at the moment. Gimli had suggested that they leave off all tale telling until after their stomachs were full, and in this not even the Elves attempted to snub his judgement.

Aragorn accepted the loaf from Oloriel with a bemused smile. He had certainly been surprised to see her standing beneath the crumbling arch of Isengard, robed in the clothes of a man, and sporting a small cut across her right cheek. Their brief acquaintance in Lothlórien had left him with a favorably impression of the _elleth_, but in all honesty, he had never expected to see her again. And yet, here she was.

As he finished providing himself with victuals, his eyes wandered over to the other she-elf, who was presently helping Merry retrieve a keg of some sort from a high shelf. He did not recall ever meeting her before, and he was sorely curious about how she fit into this story.

With a small shrug he took up the vacancy on a worn, creaking chair and began to make inroads on his midday meal. He would just have to wait until the time for recounting had come.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Setting down his tarnished wine goblet with a contented sigh, Legolas broke into Gimli's jubilation over pipeweed by declaring that he would go back out into the open air. Oloriel latched onto this opportunity to do the same, for she found both the close quarters and the close Dwarf to be rather irksome. 

Legolas sauntered outside and took up a seat on the recently vacated pile of stones. Walking a little bit further, Oloriel found a solitary sward of clean dry grass to settle down upon. A few moments of silence reigned before Legolas made a go at starting a conversation.

"I'll never understand why Men construct their buildings in such a ways as to sequester themselves from nature so."

Oloriel smiled into the warm rays of the sun and replied. "I suppose it's because nature is not such a gentle force to them." She let her hand weave through the grass beside her and watched with amusement as a black ant attempted to scale the sheer wall of a pebble. "You would think that they could have more windows, though."

Legolas murmured his agreement. Oloriel let her eyes wander toward the gate of Isengard, but then drew back quickly. The torpid water and twisted wreckage reminded her too much of the recent unpleasant events and of the presumably unpleasant future. She would rather watch the cloudy sky and pretend that such natural serenity invaded every corner of the world. With this thought in mind she lay back upon the grass and tucked one arm under her head. She was just getting comfortable when the Dwarf's boisterous laugh filtered out through the doorway of the storage room

Having been intently watching the curious _elleth _before him, Legolas could not help but notice the small grimace that passed across Oloriel's face at the sound of Gimli's merriment. A slight smile tweaked the corners of his mouth as he witnessed this reaction – so predictably Elven.

"You know, he's not so odious once you get to know him. I never thought I'd say this, but he actually has a very stout and noble heart."

Oloriel raised her eyebrow in cynical disbelief but did not have a chance to reply, as the sound of crunching gravel alerted her to the eminent arrival of the others.

In a few moments, everyone had found a seat on or around the pile of stones. All but the Elves had smoldering pipes in hand, and were content to spend the next few minutes merely puffing away and enjoying the cool breeze.

Nessúlë, who had taken up a seat next to Oloriel, leaned down and whispered. "The smoke gets in ones eyes, but I suppose the smell isn't so bad."

Oloriel smiled cheerily from her reclined position. ***"Aye… I've heard of smell and taste and… texture and all the other… virtues of this 'leaf' from friend Pippin."

Having heard this declaration, Pippin nodded cordially in their direction, but did not make a reply, as his trusty wooden pipe was claiming all his mouth's attention at the moment. 

In short time Legolas became somewhat restless. "Come now! Time wears on, and the mists are blowing away, or would if you strange folk did not wreath yourself in smoke. What of the tale?"*

Merry grinned, "Ah yes, the tale. And quite a tale it is, don't you think Pip?"

Pip nodded his head in a rather shell-shocked way. "Aye, it still makes my head spin a bit to think of it, but I suppose we shall have to satisfy your curiosity. …Let's see, where shall I begin."

~~~

"…and that is how we came to be sitting on this pile of stones, surrounded by the spoils of war and puffing away on our pipes while the ladies to a turn about the ruins" Merry ended the story with a flourish.

"Agch!" Gimli let out a guttural noise rather unique to Dwarves. "You mean _you _were puffing away at your pipe. If I'm not mistaken, Master Peregrin here was slumbering away like a babe."

Pippin just nodded his head sheepishly. "It's the natural thing to do when your belly is full and you've no where else to be."

***"And that, friend Pippin," Nessúlë interjected, "Is why Hobbits are such… such, ah… what do you say**… **round? little people. Try… walk after meal… I find it much better."

"Well, I certainly wouldn't make a habit of it," Merry called out jovially, "But at the moment, I _am_ wondering where Gandalf has got off to. I suggest that we take a walk and look about us to see if we can find him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Greetings fair one, I do not believe we have been properly introduced." 

The confrontation with Saruman was finally over and the company was now heading back down the valley, toward the Fords of Isen. Oloriel and Nessúlë had both agreed that their path had met up with Aragorn's for a reason, and that they should follow where he led if they could. Aragorn had been cautious in his encouragement, but had not refused their aid when they were determined upon it.

Oloriel now found herself riding alongside a man of Rohan, evidently of noble birth if she read his insignia correctly, Nessúlë had abandoned her a few minutes before, opting to ride next to the Hobbits and work on her grasp of the Common Tongue.

The man was looking at her expectantly. Oloriel smiled politely while she racked her mind for any protocols that she should perhaps be ready to observe. Without producing any, she finally managed to get out what she hoped was an acceptable reply.

***"I am Oloriel… daughter of Alkarin and Maldalossë o Lothlórien." As she spoke she inclined her head slightly in an attempt at a formal greeting.

The man smiled warmly. "Éomer, Third Marshall of the Mark and sister-son to Théoden King."

'Ah,' Oloriel thought, 'So he is of some importance.' As she mused on this, she automatically inclined her head again and murmured, ***"My lord."

"I have never met a she-elf before, nor did I ever expect to. I must acknowledge that your race is largely a mystery to us. I garnered enough surprise when I met Legolas on the plains. How came you to be here?"

As was usual, Oloriel lagged behind in the conversation for a few seconds and she dissected the import of his words. 

***"It…it is…" Oloriel felt slightly overwhelmed at the task of recounting her tale in the language of Men. ***"It is… a long tale… I beg pardon, I am… unsure with this tongue."

Éomer's eyes rose in realization. "Oh, but of course. I must beg _your_ pardon then, lady. I do not mean to pester you with difficult questions."

Oloriel shook her head. ***"No harm, my lord."

~~~

It was Oloriel's tentative friendship with Éomer that allowed her to over-hear a bit of information that set her mind on edge. One of the Rohirrim, evidently well acquainted with Éomer, closed in on his left flank and began a quiet conversation with him.

Oloriel felt that it would be impolite to listen in, so she did not strain to; however, an Elf's ears are an Elf's ears, and there was nothing that she could do about their acute receptivity.

One exchange in particular struck her notice: "So many men were lost at Helm's Deep… so many. And Erkenbrand* suffered more than a few casualties to his company. Where will we find more men?"

At these words, Oloriel's mind instantly shifted to Elladan. Thirty of the Dúnedain rode with him – more men. She smiled happily at this thought. Perhaps such aid would boost the spirits of the present company, many of whom, though stalwart and persistent, seemed weighed down with care.

And then another thought struck her. How would Elladan know where to find them? It seemed quite likely that the Rangers would go in a more southerly direction, toward Edoras, but Aragorn and Théoden were presently on their way to Helm's Deep, and who knew where to after that. She needed to warn him somehow.

With deep breaths she attempted to focus her mind. She had not attempted to contact Elladan in this way since she left Lothlórien, for she had felt that to do so would be a distraction, at a time when she needed to be always on the alert. Now it was time to flew the rusty instincts.

__

//…Elladan…//

She did not feel anything for a moment, but then a soft whisper came back to her.

__

//'Riel, is that you?//

A small tingle of pleasure ran up and down Oloriel's spine. She loved the sound of his voice.

__

//Elladan, listen carefully… Edoras is not your destination. Make for the Fords of Isen… you will find Estel there//

A wave of confusion swamped her, before Elladan finally replied. _//What? How can you know this?…And what map have you been looking at, mela_ {love}_? We must cross the Fords in order to pass onto the fields of Rohan.//_

Oloriel paused for a moment and then blushed faintly. _//You're right, I need a better map.//_

//But that's beside the point… How is it that you know of Aragorn's whereabouts?//

//I cannot tell you now…//

And this was indeed true, for just then Éomer looked back at her and exclaimed in alarm. 

"Lady, are you alright!"

She looked up at him in confusion. ***"Yes, my lord, I am… well… why ask you?"

His eyes cleared at her assurance and his creased brow was smoothed. "It is just… your eyes, they had a strange light in them and a far away look. I feared that you would perhaps faint."

Oloriel smiled. ***"No, I am not harmed… it is… a way of Elves."

Éomer tried to appear as though he understood her meaning, but she could still see the uncertain look in his eyes. To him, Elves must seem a very strange folk.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Kallindo gently closed the door and then paused for a moment to assure himself that no one had been alerted to his movements. He had managed to escape the House of Healing and was now winding his way through several corridors and walkways in order to make it to his own flet. The healers would be unlikely to respond enthusiastically to his absence, and his heart raced irrationally at the thought of being apprehended before he reached his goal. Despite his toll of years he still felt rather like a naughty little elfling who is about to get caught for getting into the spiced apples.

An amused smirk crept across his face as he let his mind wander down this path. Time went by so quickly – it felt like only weeks, not centuries, since he _was_ that elfling. Only this time, the prize was worth much more than spiced apples.

He had regained consciousness several days before, but a fog had continued to lay over his mind, and sleep claimed him much of the time. A few friends and family members had come to visit him at intervals, but it had only occurred to him the evening before that Oloriel was conspicuously absent. After this his mind had been much sharper, and he urged the healers to tell him of her whereabouts. Their manner did not inspire him with confidence, for they continually avoided answering his question and would take pains to divert his mind toward other things. However, their attempts were fruitless, for this silence worried him more than any explanation they could have made. 

Finally, in the dead of night his diligence was rewarded. A younger, apprenticed healer had been watching that night, and he was able to wheedle the information out of her after some continuous pestering.

Oloriel was gone.

His mind still spun with the knowledge. How could she have been so reckless, so impulsive? Why had she done it? There didn't seem to be any reason for this madness. And yet, the madness had been carried out while he was tied to his bed, and now there was only one thing he could do: go find her and bring her back.

Having arrived at his flet, Kallindo slunk in and quickly began retrieving provision and weapons for his intended journey. He knew from his source that the two maidens had been seen going southward. This is where he would start, and he only hoped that the Valar would aid his cause and provide him with some further direction.

Kallindo was so busy collecting various articles to throw in his saddlebag that he didn't hear the door swing open. Not until a shadow fell across his bed did he realize there was someone else in the room.

His hands froze. With tensed muscles, he straightened up and turned to face his mysterious visitor. What he found surprised him. Írima stood before him, hands on hips, staring up at him with narrowed eyes a jaw firmly set.

"Just what is it you think you are doing?" she demanded of him.

He snorted unceremoniously and replied, "You know very well what I'm about, now leave me to it."

Írima's chin lifted slightly and she stared him down. "Do not be so foolish, _penneth_ {young one}. You are not strong enough. You have only begun to walk again, how do expect to find her? She is out of our hands now."

Kallindo turned swiftly back to his packing, not wanting to hear her reason. He picked up a small dagger and made to thrust it into his pack, but without notice a small hand struck out and cast the weapon from his hand, causing it to go skittering across the floor until it ran into the leg-post of his wash basin.

With deliberate steps Kallindo moved over to the basin and retrieved his dagger, pointedly ignoring Írima as she stood with arms crossed, daring him to try again. And try again he did. Only this time Írima snatched up his parcel instead and held it firmly behind her back.

"I will not let you do this."

Rage and frustration welled up in Kallindo as he faced down the petite elf in front of him. 

"You have no right!" he half-yelled, half-growled at her. "You don't understand, you have no idea–"

"Oh I have a fairly good idea, sir!" Írima cut in harshly. "You are not the only one who grieves for their foolhardy actions. My niece is gone as well as my dear friend, and Lantél pines after his sister. You are not the only Elf whose heart is overshadowed. But we cannot allow that to dictate our actions."

With lightening-quick maneuvering, Kallindo snatched his pack away from Írima's hands but then flung it across the room in his passion.

"Why not! My heart is what keeps me alive, and it torments me at the thought that she is out there, dead or on her way to death. If she dies I die!" As he spoke these words he sank down onto his knees. "There is no choice – I must… I must find her…"

A soft look stole across Írima's face as she witnessed the defeated air that draped itself across Kallindo's shoulders. Kneeling down in front of him, she took his face in her hands and kissed his brow.

"Kallindo… I have known you since you were a small boy. You are more than this despair that holds you captive. Do not lose hope, it is the only thing we have left. …Come, you must go to Galadriel for she calls you, as she did Lantél. You are both brash young warriors, but sometimes we must watch and listen before we run out to fight. After you have laid your plans before the Lady, come visit the baby and I. We will comfort each other as best we can."

Several moments passed before Kallindo finally let out a weary sigh and then nodded reluctantly. 

"Very well. I will go if I must."

~~~

"But how can you say that? She and Nessúlë cannot possibly survive out there!"

Kallindo began to pace distractedly in front of the Lady to try and expend his pent up energy. He hated this waiting and deliberation; he wanted desperately to take action of some sort.

__

//Possible?// Galadriel let the word hang in Kallindo's mind for a moment and he stopped his restless movement, turning back toward her, his eyes drawn irresistibly toward her own.

__

//Who can say what is possible? Telperion and Laurëlin* died, and yet the world is not yet cast into darkness…// Galadriel smiled kindly. "Oloriel walks her own path, she is now beyond our aid."

Kallindo's head sank toward his chest and he heaved a great shuddering sigh. He tried to say something, but all words seemed trifling and they stuck in his throat. Finally, Galadriel had pity on him and excused him from her company. However, before he passed the threshold of the chamber, he heard a last whisper in his mind.

__

//Do not grieve for that which is not yet dead.//

Without turning, he strode out of the room and began walking aimlessly through the trees.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oloriel pulled her cloak more securely around her as she waited for the rest of the company to mount up. Nessúlë was beside her, quiet and somewhat shaken from recent events.

Sometime during the middle of the night they had all been awakened by a sharp, piercing cry. Pippin, the foolish Hobbit that he was, had been drawn to the palantír – the seeing stone of Orthanc – and been caught within the terrible gaze of the Eye. To add to this, as if such excitement hadn't been enough, the great shadow of a winged Nazgúl had descended upon them, striking a cold lance of fear into their hearts. At this revelation, Gandalf had scooped up a bewildered Pippin and ridden off with great speed on Shadowfax, urging them to ride with haste and not tarry.

With great speed, camp had been dismantled, and now, as the last riders mounted, Théoden and Aragorn lead the way, on the last stretch toward the Fords.

~~~

She felt it, a strange pulse through her mind. Looking up at the stars in confusion she swayed slightly in her saddle as the vibration became more persistent. Something was happening. 

With a clouded mind, Oloriel pulled up her horse as those around her came to a halt. She heard the voice of Éomer, as though he were very far off, calling out: "Halt! Who rides in Rohan?"

This brought her mind slightly back into focus. Looking out onto the path from which they had come, Oloriel spied a group of hooded men on horseback. 'Elladan!' she thought. Her heart beat a rapid dance as she witnessed the exchange of formal greetings. Where was he?

Trying to push aside the throbbing wave that pushed against her mind, Oloriel peeked around the Rohirrim in front of her to scan the solemn gray riders. They were all hooded! This would not do at all. 

Her head hurt unmercifully, but she continued her search. There! She smiled dizzily as she saw a figure in the crowd, craning his head this way and that, as though looking for something… or someone. 'Mayhap he feels my presence,' Oloriel mused.

She did not have much more time to linger on these thoughts as the hooded figure passed his gaze across her. For in that moment, the whole world went dark. 

~~~ 

As their gazes collided, both Elves swayed and fell from their horses in shocking synchronism. Luckily, in both cases, hands were nearby and quick to respond to the crisis. With stunned expressions, both of them were caught and laid gently onto the ground.

Théoden and Aragorn were somewhat startled this sudden movement and broke of their conversation with Halbarad.

"What trickery is upon us now?" Théoden asked in a bewildered tone. 

Aragorn shook his head slowly. "I know not," he replied, then looked to Nessúlë, where she sat cradling the head of Oloriel. "Know you anything of this lady?" 

She shook her head. ***"I am confused, as you."

"And I too," Elrohir spoke up, pushing back his hood. His gaze held Nessúlë's for a moment, before turning back to his brother. "He seems to be merely in a deep sleep."

Théoden shook his head. "We cannot linger over this mystery. Glad we are that you have come, for the kinsmen of Aragorn must be mighty warriors, indeed. Your aid is most welcome. But we must make haste and not tarry. Lady Nessúlë, can you support your friend in front of you as we ride?"

***"Aye, my lord."

The same accommodations were made for Elladan with Elrohir, allowing them to continue their journey into the night with no further delays. They reached Helm's Deep as the sky in the east began to soften with the coming of the sun.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

For the first time in their lives, Elladan and Oloriel were truly unconscious. They had no memory of their time asleep, other than a sense of warmth, until for a moment they saw each other across a great void.

Elladan called out to her. "What is happening to us now?"

Without a word, Oloriel merely shook her head, and then with a brilliant flash, Elladan was torn away from her, being cast back into the world and starting awake with gasping breath.

For a moment Elladan merely lay where he was, trying to understand what had just happened. His mind could not make any sense of it. To make him even more confused, he found himself in a room built of stone, lying prostrate on a thin mat, with bleary morning sunshine falling on him through a tiny sliver of a window. All of his questions were silenced, however, when he heard a soft shifting beside him. Turning his head slightly, his mind and body both froze as he took in the sight before him.

Oloriel law next to him, her hair splayed out around her, still asleep and breathing softly.

Elladan could not move. His mind screamed at him that this was just another dream, and that if he disturbed it he would forever lose the lovely vision in front of him.

She was so real. That is what astounded him. In the dreamscape there was always a certain ethereal air about everything – as though a transparent film hung between you and the rest of the world. Everything you touched, or heard, or saw was somewhat otherworldly and ultimately unapproachable. 

But here she was. At least, he desperately hoped that she was. The thoughts of why or how she got there had not entered his mind yet – that would be for another, more practical time. 

With baited breath he finally scrounged up the nerve to reach out and touch her. The skin of her cheek felt warm and soft and alive. He couldn't help it as a dazed smile crept across his face. She was real!

As if in a trance, he scooted closer to her and began softly running his hand through her hair. It was lighter in hue then he remembered it, but then dreams were not always consistent with reality. He could also smell a gentle fragrance wafting from the locks of hair. It struck him anew, for he had always thought that she smelled of lilacs, but now it was more like… oh, he couldn't pin it down, but it was different – fuller – better. Without thinking, he leaned down a placed a soft kiss on her lips. 

Yes, that was definitely better.

Oloriel's eyes began to refocus as she was drawn from sulmber. Elladan waited impatiently for her to recognize him. He knew that she had, as a drowsy smile began to spread across her face.

"Elladan," she whispered, and then reached a hand up to tuck one of his small, dark braids behind his ear, then resting on his cheek.

Wordlessly, Elladan turned his face into her palm and kissed it. Then he leaned down again and kissed her hair, her forehead, her cheek, and her nose, smiling like a fool as he did so.

Oloriel returned his brilliant smile, and half-cried, half-laughed out, "You came!"

Elladan's smile broadened, if that was possible. "And if I had known you were here, _melorpân_ _meleth nín_ {my dearest love}, I would have come much, _much_ faster." 

And thereupon, he kissed her quite properly. A kiss of devotion, and longing, and love, the memory of which would bring a smile to both of their faces for the rest of their immortal lives.

***

1.) Telperion and Laurëlin are the Two Trees of Valinor that gave light to the world. Telperion was silvery while Laurëlin was golden. Melkor/Morgoth destroyed them, but before they died, Yavanna (Valar of growing things) salvaged a blossom from each tree and created the moon (from Telperion) and the sun (from Laurëlin).

2.) This passage was taken directly out of The Two Towers: Book III: Chapter IX: "Flotsam and Jetsam".

3.) For those who aren't as familiar with book canon, Erkenbrand was another Marshall (or a commander of some sort) who was actually stationed with a company at Helm's Deep to guard the Westfold. However, he was out on a campaign with his company when Théoden went to Helm's Deep. It was Erkenbrand, not Éomer, who rode into the valley of Helm's Deep to bring aid to Théoden and to turn the tides of battle.

Things to Know:

penneth: "young one" --- from pen: "one" (pronoun) and neth: "young"

mel-or-pân meleth nín: literally, "dear-above-all love my"

That's all folks…

~Iluvien~ 


	31. A Fateful Decision

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

'*' signals a footnote

****

A/N: Hey, everyone. I have two stories to plug which I think deserve more attention than they're getting. Check out "I Will Never Leave You," by Rana1 and "Believe in the Stars," by Very.

****

And, Welcome Lady Sandry, Princess Myra, Ajina Kaori-san, and Celebrana. = )

_______________________________

Chapter 31.) A Fateful Decision

***

__

Over the land there lies a great shadow,

Westward reaching wings of darkness.

The Tower trembles; to the tombs of kings

Doom approaches. The Dead Awaken…

- J.R.R. Tolkien

***

Recap: Elladan and Oloriel finally met! After their fainting spell, they woke up next to each other in a small room at Helm's Deep. It is just after sunrise. In the last chapter, we left Elladan kissing Oloriel rather, um… purposefully… ^_~

Elladan drew away from the kiss reluctantly. He felt rather light-headed, and from what he could tell, it wasn't from the lack of air. Resting his forehead against Oloriel's, he closed his eyes and gave himself a few moments to just soak in the moment.

"Do you feel it as well?" Oloriel broke the silence gently.

"I feel something, though I don't understand it." Elladan opened his eyes and gave her an endearingly confused look. "Have you any wisdom to impart?"

Oloriel shook her head in the negative. _//I would that I knew what was going on, but I feel rather tossed about, like a small leaf in a thunderstorm.//_

Elladan smiled wryly and was about to reply when it struck him that her lips hadn't moved. 'That's odd,' he mused, 'I didn't feelher linking with me.'

"What did you just say?" Oloriel questioned, "I didn't hear it well for some reason."

Cocking his head to the side, Elladan gazed at her for a moment. "I didn't _say_ anything… I barely thought it."

Just as he finished speaking, Oloriel let out a little involuntary laugh. In answer to his quizzical expression, she leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth and replied. "You never told me that you found my ears so fascinating."

Elladan looked taken aback from a moment, then blushed ever so slightly as he shrugged and replied. "Well… that's true… they're somewhat more pointed than is usual, and I… well, never mind that. But how did you know?"

Oloriel cocked her head to the side as if she were in thought. "I didn't hear the words, but I assumed you revealed it to me. I… it just slipped into my mind, that's all."

Elladan sat up abruptly, and drew Oloriel with him. Sitting directly in front of her, he placed his hands on her shoulders and searched her eyes with his own. Unsure of what he was doing, Oloriel made to question him, but she stopped herself as a slow smile began to dawn on Elladan's face. 

"Your head still aches slightly from last night, you hope that you can find some thread to mend the torn elbow of your tunic, for it is the only one you have, and… you think that I look incredibly adorable when I'm confused."

This time is was Oloriel's turn to blush. "How…?"

Elladan chuckled softly. "Something has definitely changed here. It's as though there's only a thin veil between our minds. Can't you feel it? Your thoughts are just a hairs-breadth away from mine."

As Oloriel met his gaze, she was aware of a gentle pressure at the edges of her consciousness. It was like the sporadic caress of the wind on a blustery day – coming in spurts, and sometimes getting through the cracks and crevices around the doors and windows. Elladan's consciousness was somehow being held at bay along a hazy boundary, and just like the wayward wind, his thoughts and feelings would occasionally slip unbidden into her mind. Timidly, Oloriel attempted to push back. For one brief, astounding moment she was engulfed by a surging cascade of his emotions, but she drew her mind back quickly, the breathtaking wave walled up again behind the mental barrier. Both she and Elladan jerked backward, startled by the contact.

"I do not mean to accuse you, 'Riel," Elladan spoke breathlessly, "But would you mind warning me before you attempt such a thing again?"

Oloriel nodded her agreement dazedly. "Aye… I shall have to warn myself before I do so, for the experience was rather… disconcerting."

As soon as she spoke a flare of embarrassed contrition pulsed out of her. Elladan did his best to interpret the feeling.

"Do not fret_, mela_ {love}," he comforted, "I take not offense. If I weren't myself, I doubt I'd want to take a stroll around my mind either."

"It wasn't that… it's just, I felt like such an intruder. I didn't intend to probe so far, it is not my place."

Elladan smiled as he leaned over to peck her on the cheek. "You already have my heart. How could I possibly be angry with you for taking a glimpse into my mind? …Now I certainly wouldn't want you taking up permanent residence," he added facetiously, "But I cannot censure you for one look."

Oloriel looked wonderingly at her Elf. He always said the most wonderful things, and always seemed to know how to make her heart melt. 

"I think you must be too perfect, my lord," she said coyly, draping her arms around his neck. "You are compassionate, intelligent, strong, romantic, dutiful, understanding…" //…_is there any flaw in your character?//_

Elladan smiled crookedly and furrowed his brows. Of course there were flaws – many of them. But they just all seemed to disappear when he was with her. It was the first flush of love and everything was daylight and champagne. He hoped he hadn't deceived her with false expectations.

Oloriel's face began to take on a rather sober aspect. She could feel his anxiety. Shaking off his misapprehension for her sake, Elladan wrapped his arms around her waist and looked straight into her eyes.

"You should see me in the mornings," he replied ominously, "I am an absolute terror."

Oloriel's merry laughter was cut short by a playful kiss.

"I am so glad you are finally here," Oloriel whispered softly several moments later.

Elladan leaned back slightly and his face took on a more serious aspect. "Which reminds me," he murmured thoughtfully. "As much as I am filled with joy to finally be near you, and as much as you have made me forget absolutely everything else for these last minutes… 'Riel, how have you come to be here? And just where do you think you're going to?"

*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Nessúlë paced back and forth restlessly. Many of the Rohirrim guards were casting worried, and sometimes even suspicious, glances her way, but she ignored them. After much contention, she had been persuaded to leave Oloriel's side. She still did not understand why Elrohir had urged her to do so, but she had acquiesced to his and Aragorn's urging, assuming that they perhaps knew something more of the issue than she did.

Aside from that, she and Elrohir had only exchanged a few hurried words before Elrohir departed to council with Aragorn and Halbarad. All she knew at this point was that Elladan, the elf lying unconscious next to Oloriel, was indeed the elf from her friend's dreams. All Nessúlë could imagine at this point was that their rather unusual symptoms had something to do with their connection, although, at this point, she didn't believe that this connection was doing either of them any good. They had yet to wake up, and no one knew when, if ever, they would.

Casting her glance out over the valley, Nessúlë's mind drifted to other matters. Newly dug graves could be clearly distinguished from the foot-worn earth around them. The scent of blood still hung in the air. Nessúlë shivered as she imagined what the battle must have been like. As far as she could gather, the sacking of Isengard could only compare to a fraction of what had taken place here. Her mind cowed at the thought. She had seen battle before, but her experience was all in the way of skirmishes, not wars. Trying to imagine the valley swarming with orcs, teeming with such undaunted evil, she wondered how she would have reacted. Could she have faced the onslaught bravely? Would she have sought refuge in the caves with the other women? 

She did not know, and she earnestly prayed the Valar that she would never have to find out. But she knew that this was a slim hope. 

Down below, within the walls, she could see preparations being made for departure. Théoden King and his company were making ready to depart for Dunharrow and the muster of Rohan. She did not know what Aragorn planned. She had wanted to attend his council, but had felt the desire to be rather presumptuous. Neither she nor Oloriel had yet earned the right to be heard in council. She was just grateful that Aragorn and his companions had not looked down upon their desire to follow them in battle, and it was best not to push their luck. 

For a brief moment she wondered how Elrohir would react to their plans. Obviously he knew they were here, but he had yet to be informed the she and Oloriel had determined to follow Aragorn. Of course, now that Oloriel had found Elladan, then perhaps the plans would change. 

With her mind resting once again on Oloriel, Nessúlë turned impatiently and went to check on the unconscious maiden. Elrohir may have _strongly_ suggested that she leave Elladan and Oloriel be, but in her mind it was still a suggestion, one which she had duly considered. But now she was done with waiting, and even more determined to attend Oloriel and find out what in all of Arda was going on. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Oloriel's jaw tensed nervously as she waited for Elladan's response. After recounting the events of the past couple weeks to him, he had informed her that he needed a few moments to think, and it seemed as though he was going to take his precious time doing it. Being full of anxious energy, this was sorely taxing for Oloriel. 

She had spied a loose braid at Elladan's temples several moments before and her fingers itched to set it right while she waited. But this would have been deemed inappropriate in Elven culture – even more daring than a prolonged kiss. The braids of an elf were often used as signs of status, achievement, or allegiance and for anyone other than an elf's parents or bonded to touch them was very taboo. 

As Oloriel sat there trying to suppress her brimming curiosity and pent up energy, Elladan was dealing with his own set of problems. He felt like he needed to tread very carefully. Should he be angry with her or blissfully happy? Should he try and force her to a place of safety or let her choose her own path? The answer was not an easy one to find.

Oloriel began to worry the hem of her tunic, rolling it and unrolling it to keep her hands occupied. She glanced up at him quickly and caught sight of the errant braid once again. She shook her head and looked back down at her travel-worn tunic. For a brief moment she wondered what it would be like to be able to braid his hair for him every day, as his wife, but then she banished the thought. She did not want Elladan picking up on her musings. Somehow that just didn't seem like the right way to approach the subject.

Finally, Elladan broke the silence. "I cannot be truly happy with your choice, _mela_. I have a good idea of where I will be going with Aragorn, and I do not want you there with me." 

As he spoke Oloriel picked up on his feelings of anxiety, and was startled as a few elusive, shadowy images escaped Elladan's and invaded her own. They were unsettling at best, but she still felt determined.

"But Elladan, I… I know this is where I'm supposed to be – with you! You can't send me back!"

"I don't have the power to send you back," Elladan replied honestly, "But I wish I did." He scooted closer to her and took her face between his two hands. _//Please, I beg of you, do not come with me. It is too dangerous. I could not bear it if you were hurt.//_

"And what if you are hurt?" Oloriel asked levelly. "I could not bear that either."

Elladan sighed. "I know that it is always a possibility, but at least I am proved in battle and have centuries of experience. You may be capable, but you have yet to develop your skill."

"I am aware of that," Oloriel said. "But this is not about what is practical. This is about what is right. I swore to myself that I would do everything within my power to fight this evil, instead of ignoring the world and it's troubles. And do you not remember the duty which Lady Galadriel entrusted you with: to protect me as we fulfilled our destiny together? Is this not what she was speaking of? How can I turn my back on such a call when I _know_ that I have a purpose to play? You cannot ask it of me, it is out of my hands. I must do this."

Elladan made to reply, but the entrance of Nessúlë interrupted him.

"Oloriel, you are well!" she cried, as she hurried over to them with a broad smile. "No one knew what happened to you both, and whether or not you would ever come back to us. What strange doings these are. Do you both feel alright?"

Oloriel had continued to gaze at Elladan during her friend's inquiries and ejaculations.

"Yes, thank you," Oloriel replied, finally turning to her friend, "We are fine now." In her mind she whispered to Elladan, _//We will speak of this later.//_

Elladan's mouth formed a thin line. _//Aye, that we shall.//_

Nessúlë looked back and forth between their somber expressions. "Did I interrupt something?" She arched an eyebrow and placed her hands on her hips. If they had already gotten into a lover's quarrel, then she didn't know what she would do with them.

Oloriel smiled wryly. "Your interruption was most opportune, actually – it allowed me to have the last word." She threw Elladan a placating glance along with a bewitching smile, trying to lighten his mood.

Elladan couldn't help returning her smile. He may not want her to follow them into peril, but that didn't mean that she had even for one moment ceased to be the most adorable creature this side of the Hithaelgir* in his mind.

"You only had the last word because you possess eavesdropping allies, while I, on the other hand, am alone and unsupported," reasoned Elladan, entering into her light banter. "How do you expect me to stand up against two women? It's never been done before."

Oloriel's soft laughter was cut short once again as Elladan leaned over and unabashedly kissed her.

"Give me an even playing field, lady, and we shall see who has the last word." 

Nessúlë rolled her eyes. "Well then, since you both appear to be quite recovered and since you are not, in actuality, absorbed in a lovers spat, will someone please disentangle themselves from this painfully saccharine banter and tell me what exactly happened last night?"

Elladan and Oloriel looked at one another helplessly then returned their gazes to Nessúlë.

"Well, in all truthfulness, we're not completely sure," Oloriel shrugged helplessly.

"But our mental connection has strengthened since the incident," Elladan added, "And I can only assume that the strain of it must have taxed our minds too greatly. That, or it was our sudden proximity to each other."

Oloriel's eyebrows raised up slightly. "That sounds like a very plausible deduction, my elf. Well done."

Elladan eyed her quizzically. A mischievous smile spread across Oloriel's face. _//Yes, you heard me correctly… _my _elf.//_

*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Elrohir followed Aragorn out of the darkened hallways into the bleary sunshine. They had been called out to wish Théoden and his company a farewell. And Elrohir could not even pretend that he did not welcome the interruption. It had not been a pleasant council, and to see his foster brother taxed so in spirit and mind had not made the ordeal any more bearable. 

It was settled. They would make for the road into the mountains. They would seek out the Paths of the Dead.

Coming out into the open air, Elrohir spied his brother and the two _elleths _some ways on another section of the parapet. He broke into a wide grin. In his heart, he had not felt that the malady which Elladan and Oloriel had suffered was harmful to them, but it was still good to know that they were well.

His smile faded away moments later as the sound of Nessúlë's laughter wafted toward him. He was still somewhat in shock over having met her here so suddenly. His mind burned to know the tale of how they had come to be here. And his heart yearned to understand how it should feel about her arrival: happy? depressed? resigned? hopeless?

Shaking of these thoughts, Elrohir called over to his brother, informing him that farewells were to be made. With a nod and a smile, Elladan started making his way down from the walls. He had yet to actually meet Théoden, or any of the Rohirrim, but it would be well for him to observe those pleasantries which one of his station was generally called on to act out.

Nessúlë followed shortly after, wanting to get another up close glimpse of the human company. She was very curious about those sorts of things. Oloriel remained behind, watching all of the proceedings below from her lofty vantage point.

As she waited for her companions to return, Oloriel scrutinized the men below her. Her eyes were quickly draw to Aragorn, for he seemed to emanate with a sort of aura. This is not to say that there was anything radiant about him, for in this case, it was a solemn and dark air, as of one who has seen much sorrow. Indeed, he looked worn and weary with care. Oloriel wondered what ill tidings had come with the new day that she weigh down upon him so.

It made her sad to see such a spirit brought so low. Her first meeting with Aragorn had been beneath the trees of Lothlórien, and then he had still been ready to smile and tease. Certainly he had carried a sense of sorrow and duty with him then, but it was as if the air of Lórien had allowed him to breathe easier for a time, to remember beauty and peace. But now that time was over. He was a man with a grave purpose, and a man who had the strength of will to carry it out. Or die in the effort.

Trying to turn away from such morbid thoughts, Oloriel began pacing along the high walkway, humming aimlessly to herself. A few moments passed before she stopped dead in her tracks and whipped her head around quickly as if looking for something.

'I have been here before,' she thought, 'Or… no, not been here… but seen it.'

She racked her brain for a few moments before coming to a startling realization. The Mirror of Galadriel: that is where she had seen it, that is where she saw herself pacing along a wall such as this one in the garb of a warrior. 

Once her mind had started down this path is couldn't stop. What else had she seen? The valley of Imladris, a strange company, and… Kallindo, she had seen Kallindo! The realization hit her hard in the stomach. She had seen Kallindo and the Orcs; had known something was amiss. And it had happened – Kallindo had fallen under the blade of an Orc.

'What else? What else?' her spirit taunted her. 'You have to remember!'

It was at this point that her frenzied musings were interrupted.

__

//What is it? What is the matter?// Elladan reached out to her with his mind. He had felt her emotions, even from several hundred yards away.

Oloriel tried to stuff everything down. _//I am well, Elladan, nothing is wrong. I am merely… thinking.// _

Elladan was not very convinced, and he looked up toward the fortress to seek her out. He found her standing tall and looking down on him. To the eye, she appeared just fine. With this small assurance, Elladan reluctantly turned back to the company at hand, not knowing what else he could do at the moment.

As soon as Elladan had turned his back to her, another memory resurfaced in Oloriel's mind. She had seen Elladan. He had been holding her, and she was injured, although try as she might, Oloriel couldn't remember where. Then there was a battle and…. and….

Oloriel looked down into the valley with horror. The White Tree. A man with the White Tree emblazoned on his jerkin, dying in her arms. The White Tree – the tree of the king.

Aragorn.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Elladan rubbed a tired hand across his face. This was not going to be easy.

Oloriel placed her hands on her hips and met his pleading gaze head on.

Silence hung in the air. Around them, bustling noises could be heard. After a rather dramatic departure from the Deeping-coomb*, their company had made for Edoras, where they were currently making a short stop. Soon they would ride out again, for Dunharrow and the paths beyond. 

"Oloriel, you know where we are going. We will make for the Dead Road, and none alive know what we shall find there."

"But you have faith that Aragorn may command the dead. What is there to fear?" Oloriel questioned him.

"I do not know!" Elladan cried petulantly. "All I know is that I do not want you there."

"But I must be there!" Oloriel shot back with equal vehemence. "Though it may be hard to accept that a novice like myself could be of any importance, I need to be there – lives depend on it."

Elladan searched her eyes carefully. "What do you mean? …What do you know, 'Riel?"

Oloriel bowed her head. "I glimpsed into Lady Galadriel's Mirror." Just be speaking those words she knew that she had caught Elladan's attention.

"And…?" he questioned

"And I saw Aragorn… dying. And I saw many other things. I saw myself, with you in battle." Oloriel knew that this wasn't completely true, but she did not want to tell him that she had seen them together _after _that battle, and that she had been wounded.

Elladan looked at her thoughtfully. He loved Aragorn as a brother, and would grieve for his death. But he also knew that Aragorn was an integral part of this whole puzzle. He was the healing force: the one man that could unite the world of men, the only man who had the right to. 

He suddenly comprehended what Oloriel had been trying to tell him this whole time. It was not about practicality, but about doing the right thing. It was about seeing that this evil was put away, once and for all. He did not want to believe that Oloriel would have to spend herself on this endeavor, but when faced with the possibility of Aragorn's death, the problem suddenly became more concrete and more discernable. He and Oloriel were somehow part of this grand dance, and their steps could significantly alter the outcome. 

Was the outcome worth risking Oloriel for? His heart screamed no. It told him that nothing was worth that. But his mind said otherwise. And more importantly, so did Oloriel. 

He sighed heavily. "You must promise to stay with me at all times."

The _elleth _before him fairly beamed with happiness.

"_Hannon le_ {thank you}_,_" she whispered, throwing her arms around his neck, "_hannon le_." Elladan held her close as if he was truly about to loose her. He knew it wasn't completely rational, but it was how he felt. He wanted to imprint this memory on his mind, in case she was ever taken from him.

Leaning her head back, Oloriel looked up at him with devotion. "I would have come anyway, you know that. But it would have hurt me sorely to have to disappoint you."

Elladan flashed a lopsided grin. "Well, I suppose that's something."

Oloriel's soft chuckle was cut off by a gentle kiss.

That was getting to be a habit between them.

*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

"What? No." Elrohir was emphatic. "We cannot allow them to come with us."

Nessúlë's mouth dropped open.

"Oloriel and I have already made our decision," Elladan replied. "And if Oloriel comes, we cannot keep Nessúlë from following. Do not waste your breath, bother, you will not be able to dissuade them."

Elrohir's brows furrowed deeply. As his brother felt toward Oloriel, he felt toward Nessúlë, and he was finding it just as difficult to accept the possibility of harm befalling her.

"This is… it's ludicrous. You cannot do this. What of your brother, Nessúlë, he would certainly not approve of this."

"Than it is well he is not here," Nessúlë replied matter-of-factly. "Besides, he does not have the authority to command my actions. And may I remind you, _friend_, that neither do you."

Elrohir took half a step backward as she said this. Her tone had been steadfast and imperious, and with mounting dread he realized that she would not be moved. Neither did he have the right to move her, as she had so firmly reminded him.

Nessúlë turned away and led her horse toward the gates. Elrohir looked despondently after her. As he watched he felt a gently hand placed on his shoulder.

"I know it is not easy, brother, but only the Valar can keep them safe for us now. We must have faith."

Elrohir met his brother's gaze and held it. Then, nodding his head slowly, he led his own horse away.

*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

The next morning found Elladan and Oloriel looking warily at a gaping entrance in the mountainside. Putrid air wafted out of the cavernous depths, and the forest around them, standing stark and black against the pale sky, did nothing to sweeten the air.

The riders before them were cautiously leading their horses into the darkness. Legolas' steed, Arod, was having the most difficulty, but the Elf's natural skill with animals won out in the end. Soon it was Oloriel's turn to enter. She had wanted to walk with Elladan, but the way was too narrow. He would go behind her with a torch.

Standing at the dark threshold she knew that she would not be able to turn back once her foot crossed it. This was the moment, to face fate or to retreat to safety. With an unsteady heart Oloriel looked back at her beloved. He smiled sadly.

Facing back toward the darkness, Oloriel attempted to conjure up all that she knew of goodness and beauty. She thought about the people she loved, and the people she had never met, who loved just as she did.

This was for them. She only hoped that there would be something left for her in the end.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped through the doorway, her slim figure being swallowed up by the murky shadows. Elladan followed swiftly behind her. 

***

1. Misty Mountains

2. A fancy way of denoting the valley/niche in which Helm's Deep was nestled.

Things to Know:

Oloriel: "dream daughter"

Nessúlë: "young spirit"

mela: "love", noun 

hannon le: "thank you"

~Iluvien~ 


	32. Any Man Can Fall

Names/Pronunciations will come at the end of each chapter. 

'*' signals a footnote

'***' signals a line spoken by Oloriel or Nessúlë in the Common Tongue, of which they are not extremely fluent.

****

A/N: You probably haven't noticed, but throughout this entire story I've been constantly flipping back and forth between capitalizing or not capitalizing (E/e)lf. I've finally come to a decision. I'm capitalizing the names of all the races. That seems to be the most consistent way in which Tolkien dealt with this issue (though I swear I've seen lowercase "hobbit" in the books). Therefore, you will from now on see only Elf, she-Elf, Man, Woman, Dwarf, Orc, Ent, Hobbit, etc… 

****

Plug: Go read "Shadow and Sun" by nzmuse575. I think it is very well done, you'll like it, and you'll do a good service by upping her review count. = )

___________________________

Chapter 32.)

***

__

So runs my dream, but what am I?

An infant crying in the night,

An infant crying for a light,

And with no language but a cry.

Alfred Lord Tennyson 

***

Recap: Oloriel and Nessúlë have chosen to go with the Gray Company on the Paths of the Dead. 

Cold beads of sweat gathered on Oloriel's brow as she traveled along the hidden path. She felt as though the air was squeezing in on her, trying to snuff her out, and she was hard-pressed to keep herself from looking about with wide, frightened eyes, waiting for some great shadowed hand to reach out from the darkness and snatch her away. She frequently tried to shake herself of these thoughts, knowing that they were foolish, but the chilling gloom of the place would not allow her to do so, plunging straight into her heart with its sharp fingers and pressing against her ribcage.

There was nothing natural about the place. An otherworldly terror dwelt there.

As they traveled on through the oppressive darkness, Elladan tried to reach out to her with his mind and soothe her, but she rebuffed him as best she could. She felt ashamed enough as it was, falling prey to such morbid imaginings, without turning to Elladan for comfort. She was the one who had convinced him to allow her coming, and she would not give him reason to regret that decision.

An eerie tingle ran along the back of Oloriel's neck. They were being followed. She could hear the ruff footsteps of the Dwarf behind them begin to come faster, as though he were anxious to stay within the range of Elladan's torchlight. For a brief moment, Oloriel had the urge to look and see what was behind them, but the idea quickly flew from her mind. Something in her resisted the thought, kept her looking forward. And from what she could tell, everyone else was heading the same wisdom. They continued to walk on in silence, solemn and alert, eyes straining forward into nothing.

Resolved to move steadily onward, Oloriel was rather frustrated when a strong throbbing began to penetrate her mind. It was similar to the sensation she had experienced shortly before she came face to face with Elladan for the first time, but more insistent and sharp. Something was trying to break into her. In contrast to the gentle undulating pressure of Elladan's consciousness, this invasion came in quick, stinging bites, and she was unsure of how long she could keep it at bay.

Ignoring her feeble protests, Elladan let go of his horse's tether, keeping the torch in his right hand, and reached out to circle Oloriel's waste with his left arm.

__

//What is it?// he questioned frantically, _//What can I do?//_

Oloriel merely shook her head, bending all her concentration to holding fast the boundaries of her mind. 

It was then that, along the side of the path, Aragorn's torchlight glanced off something metallic, creating a small glint in the dark, broad passageway. Aragorn stopped the forward march and went to examine it.

"Does he feel no fear?" muttered the Dwarf. "In any other cave Gimli Glóin's son would have been the first to run to the gleam of gold. But not here! Let it lie!"*

Oloriel heard his soft murmurs and for the first time in their acquaintance, actually agreed with the Dwarf. She wished to have this grim way behind her as quickly as possible. She felt nauseous and her mind was clouded.

"Elladan," Aragorn called softly, "Lend me your torch, for the light is still too dim to see clearly."

Elladan cast a worried glance at Oloriel. She gave him a weak shove toward Aragorn. "Go." 

The elf continued to hesitate for a moment.

"Go," Oloriel commanded again, this time more firmly.

With reluctant steps, Elladan left Oloriel and approached Aragorn's side, taking his torch from him and holding them both aloft.

Before him were the bones of a mighty man. He had been clad in mail, and still his harness lay there whole; for the cavern's air was dry as dust, and his hauberk was gilded. His belt was of gold and garnets, and rich with gold was the helm upon his bony dead face downward on the floor. He had fallen near the far wall of the cave, as now could be seen, and before him stood a stony door closed fast: his finger-bones were still clawing at the cracks. A notched and broken sword lay by him, as if he had hewn at the rock in his last despair.*

Aragorn did not touch him, but after gazing silently for a while he rose and sighed. "Hither shall the flowers of _simbelmynë _come never unto the world's end," he muttered. "Nine mounds and seven there are now green with grass, and through all the long years he has lain at the door that he could not unlock. Whither does it lead? Why would he pass? None shall ever know!*

"For that is not my errand!" he cried, turning back and speaking to the whispering darkness behind.*

Oloriel was struck by the strong gleam in his eye – it belied a power undaunted by the forces of evil. She could feel the authority he possessed as he continued to speak out against the lurking wraiths behind them.

"Keep your hoards and your secrets hidden in the Accursed Years! Speed only we ask. Let us pass, and then come! I summon you to the Stone of Erech!"*

Immediately the pain in Oloriel's mind began to recede, like morning fog assailed by the noonday say. The king had declared his power over the oath-breakers, and they no longer assailed her spirit. As long as she was with the king they could not harm her any more.

This knowledge brought a spark of joy into Oloriel's heart. She followed the heir of Elendil, Elf-friend of old, and heir to the nobility of Númenor, the glory of Westernessë. His will was strong, and even the spawn of evil could not approach him without misgivings. 

Elladan came back to Oloriel as they set off again on their path.

__

//Are you alright?// he inquired anxiously.

To his surprise, Oloriel smile softly. _//I am now.//_

A moment later, she spoke again. _//He truly is a great man, isn't he?//_

Elladan let the words sink in until he comprehended there meaning. _//Aye. And he will be a great king. I only hope that he lives to see his kingdom.//_

Oloriel bowed her head quickly. Her knowledge weighed heavily upon her. The thought of Aragorn dying would have seemed impossible to her had she not seen it in the Mirror. Aragorn was like one of the great heroes of old, seemingly too high to be killed. She only hoped that she could use her knowledge in some way to prevent such an untimely and grievous death. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When they came out beneath the stars no stop was called. Everyone mounted their horses and continued on, keeping their eyes trained on the dark valley below them. 

At some point along the dark passage, Elrohir and Nessúlë had come to walk near to one another and as they continued on, riding slowly down the winding ravine, their horses were abreast. Elrohir had not spoken to Nessúlë since their disagreement in Edoras. He was not quite sure of what he could say. He could not apologize, for he was not sorry for his opinion – he still disliked the idea of her coming very much. And yet, he also did not want her to be angry with him. He wondered why she had remained silent all this time.

Nessúlë shifted uncomfortably on the back of her horse. She could not wait until they finally came out into the clear air of the valley below. They may have come out under the evening sky, but the enclosing walls of the ravine still made her skin crawl. 

She was equally irked by Elrohir's brooding silence. His disapproval of her coming had rankled her spirit and called up her defiant nature, but the slow day had worn away at her annoyance and she would have been happy to have her friend back. 

'He must be angry with me,' she thought disconsolately, 'Although I don't see why he should have been so adamantly against my coming. He has seen me fight and knows that I am capable. Of course, the first time we met I was injured by an Orc, but it was through no lack of skill on my part – it could have happened to anyone.'

Her mood began to grow bitter again as she mused on these things. 'He really has no right to act so petulantly. He's behaving like a spoiled princeling! He won't even look at me. Is this how he treats his friends when they do not bow to his wishes? Well… I suppose it's better to find these things out sooner than later.'

Nessúlë let out an indignant puff of air. Elrohir looked over to her and wondered what she was thinking. He sighed and shook his head. She was probably still angry with him for seeming to doubt her skill.

With restless energy, Elrohir turned to look behind them. His face took on a somewhat startled expression, but then melted into one of stern composure. He turned back toward the front.

"The dead are following."* 

He did not appear to be speaking to anyone in particular, but Nessúlë was the closest to him and could not help from listening.

"I see shapes of Men and of horses, and pale banners like shreds of cloud, and spears like winter-thickets on a misty night. The dead are following."*

Nessúlë did not know how to respond, or even is she should respond. A few silent moments passed before she spoke almost to herself, "Yes, the Dead ride behind. They have been summoned."*

Elrohir and Nessúlë caught glances for a brief moment but then turned away. They both pretended as though nothing had passed and rode silently on into the darkening valley.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"The King of the Dead! The King of the Dead has come upon us!"*

Oloriel winced as she heard the terrified cries of the field workers and villagers as they scattered before the ghostly company. The sounds faded quickly as she raced by on her mare, but their echoes still reverberated in her mind. Everywhere they went she witnessed the snuffing out of lights and the intense finality with which doors were slammed shut. The fright of the country's inhabitants convinced her even more that she did not want to turn round and gaze upon their undead retinue. 

The company road hard and long until their horses began to stumble beneath them. They had to reach to Stone of Erech before the eve of the new day. 

It was close on to midnight when Oloriel looked up and finally beheld the rising slope of the Hill of Erech. Atop it was a black, round stone, immense and buried halfway in the earth.

As the company came to a halt, Elrohir left Nessúlë's side to present Aragorn with a silver horn. Taking the horn from him, Aragorn blew a loud clear note into the night. Oloriel listened intently as the blast faded away and felt as though an answering call was being blown from somewhere in the deep – distant and reverberating. 

"Oathbreakers, why have ye come?"* Aragorn called out into the surrounding darkness.

A voice, as though from far away, answered from the shadows. "To fulfil our oath and have peace."*

Then Aragorn said: "The hour is come at last. Now I go to Pelargir upon Anduin, and ye shall come after me. And when all this land is clean of the servants of Sauron, I will hold the oath fulfilled, and ye shall have peace and depart forever. For I am Elessar, Isildur's heir of Gondor."*

As he spoke, Halabarad unfurled the great standard that had been woven by the hands of Undómiel herself. And it was as black as the night that surrounded them, for the device upon it was hidden by the shadows.

The company made camp by the stone, but few slept. Oloriel too found little solace in sleep, taking comfort instead by Elladan's side. And so they sat together, with few words, eagerly awaiting the dawn.

But the next day there came no dawn. And the Grey Company passed into the darkness of the Storm of Mordor and were lost to mortal sight; but the Dead followed them.*

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The battle of Pelargir was like a whirlwind. The Host of the Dead swept away the Corsairs and left little work for any of the living. 

Oloriel was filled with joy at their great success, but also looked upon the field of battle with a saddened eye. The Dead did not merely defeat their foe – they slaughtered them without thought or mercy. And for an Elf, even though she looked upon the enemy, the sight of such ruthless carnage was unsettling. Elves knew life and were at odds with Death, immense and terrible.

She picked her way carefully through the slain as she made for one of the ships. The company was to sail up the Anduin toward Minis Tirith and would be leaving shortly. Afar off on a slow rise, Aragorn was speaking his last words of acquittal to the Oathbreakers. It would only be a few minutes more until they were ready to depart.

"Here, lady, we have come upon some extra food stores, eat while you can."

Oloriel turned to the voice and found herself staring into the dark eyes of Halbarad. She smiled in thanks and took the jerky and cheese from the Man's hand.

***"Thank you." She murmured softly.

The Man bowed his head slightly. "_Le ná sai maetolo._ {You are very welcome.}" 

Oloriel blinked and looked sharply at him. "_Pedil Eldarin? _{You speak Elvish?}"

Halbarad laughed a deep, hearty laugh. "Aye, fair maiden, I do indeed. I am close kin to Aragorn who grew up among the Elves; I thought it might be useful to learn."

"What a lovely surprise. You do not all speak Elvish, though, do you?"

"Nay," the older Man replied, "Only one other beside myself and Aragorn."

It was at this moment that a strong warning jolt shot through Oloriel. 

Without thought, she reached out and yanked the startled Man toward the ground, following him a fraction of a second later as a small Corsair's dagger came hurtling her way. It scraped the side of her cheek, but did no further damage.

As she fell down next to the Man, she was vaguely aware of the swish of Elladan's arrow, who stood several hundred feet away, as it passed over her head and embedded itself in the chest of the formerly breathing Corsair.

Apparently, the Dead had not been quite so thorough as she originally thought.

Several moments later, Elladan was above her, helping her back to her feet. Meanwhile, the Man lay somewhat stunned looking up at the pair.

"I think you just saved my life, lady." Halbarad stated from his still-prone position.

Oloriel gave him a shaky smile. "Actually, it was Elladan. He was the one who warned me."

Halbarad's eyes took on a questioning light. "I don't understand… I heard nothing."

"And it is well you didn't," Elladan spoke up. "If I had needed to make my message known verbally, there would not have been enough time to explain. Oloriel and I do not have need of words."

The rugged Man got to his feet and looked on them in wonder. "I have heard of such things before, but never have I witness the results. I thank the Valar for this blessed gift. I only hope that I can one day repay you both."

Oloriel took Elladan's hand and replied. "Live to fight the darkness. That is enough."

"I shall do my best, lady." Halbarad took her free hand and laid a courtly kiss upon it. "Thank you again, and fair you well; I must continue distributing this food." He picked up a satchel that had fallen from his shoulder and walked off.

As the Man walked off Elladan turned Oloriel toward him and examined her wound carefully. It was a clean slit, with not poison or rust to cause problems. 

"We should bandage this to keep it clean," he murmured.

Oloriel rolled her eyes. "It is nothing. And how would you manage to keep a bandage wrapped around my jaw?"

Elladan sighed. "At least let me do what I can. You would not want it to scar."

"And be robbed of my first battle-wound?" Oloriel cried mockingly.

Elladan's brows lowered. "My lady will have no battle-wounds on her if I can help it." He leaned in to place a kiss on her forehead. "Everything about her is precious to me."

A slow smile spread across Oloriel's face. "Very well then, lead on good physician."

Nessúlë, who had seen the commotion earlier and come near to see that all was well, rolled her eyes skyward. "Will I ever be so obviously smitten? I cannot see myself acting so… so…"

"Soft?" A voice supplied from behind her.

The _elleth _turned to meet Elrohir with an ambiguous gaze. "Perhaps," she replied, tilting her head to one side as she tried to read Elrohir's facial expression. "Yes… perhaps."

After a moment's pause, Elrohir unpredictably brought a small white flower out from behind his back and extended it toward her.

"You may be hard, lady, but I must ask…" He hesitated for a moment then continued speaking, an unreadable expression on his face: "Will this buy me a smile?" 

Nessúlë regarded him quizzically for a moment. She simply did not understand this _ellon_ {male Elf}. 'He spent almost the entire day ignoring me, and now he wants a smile?' She blinked several times in confusion.

Baffled, and rather uncertain of how to reply, she finally answered him with the first thought that came to mind: "Where in Middle-Earth did you find a flower?" She cast her gaze briefly around at the disparaged landscape.

"You did not answer my question." Elrohir cajoled stubbornly, a hint of mirth entering his eyes.

Nessúlë spied the jovial glint and it was enough for her. 'Perhaps he has simply shaken off his sour mood and come to his senses,' she conjectured. She was not sure if she was quite ready to forgive him, but she was willing to play along.

With this in mind, she placed her hands on her hips and replied facetiously, "It think that my smile is worth more than that, sir. But you may have it for…" she lifted her eyes to the heavens in thought. "For the flower and… that inkwell of yours. The one made out of a seashell… I always admired it and it reminds me of my homeland."

Elrohir quirked an eyebrow imperiously. "You drive a hard bargain, lady. But I accept."

A mischievous smirk crept across Nessúlë's face as she reached out to take the flower. But Elrohir did not immediately let go.

"For I would see your smile again, _mellon nín_, before we sail into further danger. I would not forgive myself if we were parted while you still held anger against me."

Nessúlë stared at him in wonder. She had not been prepared for this intensity of feeling or this apparent extending of the olive branch. Her vexed brooding the day before had allowed her to build up all sorts of nasty notions about the Elf in front of her, and she was now struck forcefully by the sincerity in his eyes. She felt rather ashamed at her own simple mindedness. Yes, Elrohir had been upset with her and painfully aloof, but these were certainly not unpardonable offenses, neither did they out-weigh the many good qualities she knew he possessed. Nessúlë sighed quietly.

"Elrohir," she inquired softly, "are you trying to apologize?" 

"Yes and no," Elrohir replied plainly. 

Nessúlë gave him a blank stare.

Elrohir rubbed the back of his neck and tried to explain. "I do not repent of my wishes. I still do not want you here… I fear for you, and I do not want you or Oloriel to be hurt. It's just feels wrong for you to be in such danger… But I accept your decision, and I shouldn't have bullied you about it… And I would not want such things to come between us."

Nessúlë nodded. She could accept that. "Thank you, Elrohir. For that I would have given you a smile freely."

For a brief moment they merely held each other's gaze, both smiling and comfortable in the silence of reconciliation. It was Nessúlë who first realized that they were both still holding the small flower between them, hands lightly touching. And from the look of things, she didn't think that Elrohir was going to release his hold any time soon. 

She grinned saucily. "But, since I did buy this flower with a price, I believe that you can let go now. …Do not fret, _mellon nín, _we will find you another one."

Elrohir snorted in a rather undignified manner but smiled nonetheless. Without letting go, he leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Cheek." 

Nessúlë laughed. "I'm afraid it's too late to reform now. I know you too well to start being deferential and courteous."

Shaking his head, Elrohir released the flower and started heading for the ship, calling back over his shoulder, "You _are_ a hard woman."

Nessúlë's laughter rang clear and merry, and seemed to cleanse the air for but a moment of the smell of death.

It would be many days before laughter was heard again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As Oloriel looked out onto the bloodied Pelennor Fields she felt the steel of war-lust pierce her heart. The White City was beleaguered, though as yet untaken, and round about its rocky feet lay the abounding corpses of fallen men.

So many dead already. Had they come too late?

Oloriel felt a single tear slide down her cheek. Why such death? They had not started this war; they were innocent of this blood! Sauron the Destroyer was seeking to suck the free lands dry, to quench their light, and how many had already fallen to this reckless hate? A sudden fury welled up at her with the thought. 

As the black standard of the King was unfurled off the prow of the ship, she heard a cry begin to well up among the Men in the field. They recognized the White Tree and the seven stars, glinting brilliantly in the sunshine. Aid had come unlooked for. With renewed hearts they pressed into the lines of the enemy, which had rippled and faltered at this new sight. For instead of bringing reinforcements to those of the Dark Host, thereby ensuring their victory, the Anduin had, with swift winds, brought to them a beacon of destruction.

Letting her voice mingle with the sounds of war, Oloriel unsheathed her long knives and jumped lightly from the boat, running into the fray. Only vaguely did she acknowledge the frantic cries of Elladan in her mind.

She did not fight with the ease of a seasoned warrior. But what she lacked in experience she made up for in sheer determination. She refused to be undone by the enemy.

Her tight braid swirled around her as she sliced into the enemy. Sound became dulled and her thoughts were locked away as she let her body take over the rhythm of the dance. She felt a blade slide shallowly across her thigh but she did not stop. She jumped over the body of a dying Man but she did not stop. She lost her footing and narrowly missed being skewered on a Southron's pike but she did not stop.

Her only pause came when, caught up in the frenzy of battle, she came very close to slitting Elladan's throat. Fortunately, he caught her hand quickly and deflected the thrust. She froze, with eyes widened in horror, breathing harshly.

__

//You should not sneak up on someone in the midst of battle,// she said, as they both continued to fight, this time with their backs to each other.

__

//And you should have honored our bargain. You said you would stay with me.//

Oloriel chose not to answer, as she was extremely occupied with a particularly grotesque Orc.

~~~

In the end, it turned out to be both comforting _and_ practical to stay close to Elladan. Their connection gave them a unique edge over their adversaries. Instantaneous communication, in word, thought, or feeling, gave them the ability to work as a unified team – never getting in each other's way, always complimenting each other's movements. Together they cleared a wide path from the ships.

All around them the Dúnedain were also instilling the enemy with fear. The thrust of thirty such knights into the tangle of Orcish limbs was far-reaching and strong. But, though they were skilled and fell warriors, they were not invulnerable.

Many Men died that day and many hearts were left weary and sad, but out of them all, Oloriel remembered Halbarad the most.

Halbarad was the standard barer, but this did not leave him defenseless. With a power that Oloriel marveled he wielded his sword in one hand, to fend off his enemies, and upheld the standard in his other, letting the end of the pole rest upon the ground. When the line of the enemy receded, or a clear way was opened up for him, he dove farther into the throng, sword brandished and flag flying. He also kept an eye on his chieftain, Aragorn, and this focus was the goal of all his maneuvering. At all times, he tried to stay close to the future king, waiting in readiness should there be need of him. 

And this was the cause of his down fall. 

The current of battle had brought Oloriel and Elladan near to where Halbarad stood. After she became aware of him, the _elleth _acknowledged the man with a quick nod before returning to her grim work. She would have forgotten his presence thereafter had not an unusual shadow fallen across her face. She looked to the side and was just able to catch the black standard before it fell to the ground. Grasping it firmly in her hand, she looked around frantically for Halbarad, silently asking Elladan for cover. 

She caught sight of the man just as he reached a particularly dense pack of Orcs. For a moment she could not discern why he had left his post, but then it became apparent.

Aragorn was surrounded.

The man was truly formidable, but it was as if the servants of the Dark Lord knew who he was and knew what he could become. They closed in upon him and pressed his strength to its most extreme limit. 

Oloriel's throat constricted. This couldn't be happening! A whole host of people lay between her and Aragorn and there was nothing she could do. 

She was yanked from her thoughts as a mace came swinging at her head. Ducking quickly, she dealt her opponent a thrust in the gut, still maintaining her hold on the banner, before turning her eyes back to where Aragorn had been standing. The mass of Orcish bodies had thinned, and Aragorn and Halbarad now seemed to have the situation under control. She sighed with relief and then flinched as Elladan stepped in front of her to take out another mace-swinging Orc. Sufficiently assured of Aragorn's safety, and alerted to the fact that she needed to regain her focus, she let her eyes flit across the field one more time as she jammed the standard into the ground and prepared to launch back into battle.

What she saw made her guts turn.

Oloriel watched helplessly as the foot-long dart of a Southron crossbow flew across the field straight toward Aragorn's heart… and was intercepted by Halbarad's back.

She let out an involuntary cry and turned her face away. There was no time to mourn as a jagged sword came swinging toward her head.

Oloriel was never quite sure how she managed to survive the following encounters. Her eyes were almost continually flooded with tears.

***

1-4. Paragraphs taken from _Return of the King: Book IV: Chapter II: The Passing of the Grey Company._

5-6. Lines taken from same source as above. Originally spoken by Legolas

7. Lines taken from same source as above. Originally spoken by Elladan. 

8-12. You guessed it… same source as above. 

Things to Know:

Le ná sai mae-tolo = literally, "you are very(?) well-come." --- I know, I totally cheated on 'welcome' = )

Ped-il Eldarin = "speak-you Elvish." --- I was lazy and didn't want to look up the Elvish word for Elvish. I think I've seen 'Eldarin' used before… could be wrong.


	33. Shadow

Names/Pronunciations/Miscellaneous will come at the end of each chapter. 

'*' signals a footnote

'***' signals a line spoken by Oloriel or Nessúlë in the Common Tongue, of which they are not extremely fluent.

****

A/N: I hate to say it, but I'm travelling away from book canon a bit in this chapter. This happened mostly because I forgot exactly how the council happened that led to marching on the Black Gate, and some of the things I thought I knew turned out to be not quite right. It's a little bit late in the game to be fiddling with my plot so I'm just gonna forge ahead as best I can. I don't think it's anything too big, but I thought I'd fess up before someone called me out on it. (And no, I'm not telling you what's different. There's a good chance that some of you won't catch it, and that's fine with me ^_~).

______________________

Chapter 33.) Shadow

***

__

And the night that comes with quickened pace  
Is ignorant of dawn.  
– Anna Akhmatova

***

Recap: Our protagonists have made it up the Anduin to the Pelennor Fields. They arrived on time (with book canon) to aid in the victory against the army of Mordor. During the battle, Oloriel witnessed Halbarad sacrifice himself to save the life of Aragorn.

The sun was going down in a blaze of crimson behind the peak of Mindolluin* as the Men of the West looked out over the reclaimed Pelennor Fields. The dark armies had finally been driven back, and now all that remained to be done was care for the dead, the dying, and the wounded.

Weariness was etched into every bone of every body, but even as the last shreds of light remained, there were still those who remained on the field, searching through the fallen.

Oloriel and Elladan, having reclaimed their mounts from the black ship, made their way slowly through the field, training their keen vision on the fallen around them. Not one yet had they found alive and hope began to grow dim in their eyes.

As they wended their way between the ruined, charred cottages and once vibrant fruit groves of the Pelennor, Oloriel caught sight of a fluttering black cloth. She quickly turned her mare from the path and sent her into a brisk trot. Elladan followed quickly, having apprehended her thoughts.

The king's standard still stood, rammed into the ground where Oloriel had left it. With almost reverent movements, Oloriel slid from her horse and walked over to the great stave, letting her hand trail down the smooth wood. She took the black cloth in her hand and spread it out, inspecting it. The black pennant was mostly unsullied, though one corner had been frayed and trampled in the mud. Thankfully, the flaw could be easily repaired. 

She felt a warmth against her lower back and recognized it for Elladan's reassuring hand. The Elf stepped up closer to her and let the same hand slide around her waist, pulling her against him. She barely managed to contain her extreme discomfort as the arm now circling her pressed into a wound on her side. The Elf, unaware of her injury, looked up at the black and silver banner and smiled slightly. 

__

//It still stands.//

"Aye, that it does," Oloriel nodded shakily. Looking toward her right, where she had seen a movement on the edge of her vision, she continued in a whisper, "And so does he."

Elladan followed Oloriel's gaze and saw Aragorn dismounting from his horse and crouching over one of the fallen. A great breath escaped him. For the moment, at least, the future king of Gondor was safe.

He continued to watch as Aragorn bent his head down low and whispered something into the dead man's ear. Then, with great reverence, he lifted the body up, struggling only slightly beneath the weight, and began to carry him away.

Elladan turned from the sight, grieved. "Halbarad fell."

"I know," Oloriel murmured. "I know, I saw it…"

"He was the last of Aragorn's kin. How the race of Men is diminished." Elladan shook his head dejectedly and began to move away.

Oloriel turned to him quickly. "Do not say such things. Men fought bravely today; there is still strength and honor in them."

Elladan turned back with dull eyes. "But is it enough?" A shiver ran down Oloriel's spine as he spoke. "Look at the field, Oloriel, look at it… we have lost much and we will not survive another battle."

"There is still hope that the Ringbearer will prevail," Oloriel stated firmly. "We simply have to hold until then."

Elladan rubbed a hand across his face, as he looked eastward toward the black outline of the _Ephel Dúath_*. "A fool's hope, yes."

Oloriel stared at her beloved. This was not like him. Usually he was the one to comfort and uplift her – where had his spirit gone? 

"Shall we seize the boat then, and sail into the West before anyone can stop us? Do we give up and go home?" Oloriel spoke with a sarcastic undertone. 

Elladan looked down at the beaten earth. "No, we stay. We stay because it is the only chance we have at finding peace for ourselves, free of shame. But will we ever truly grasp it? Will there ever be peace? I have seen so much death, 'Riel… so much death. And it _never _stops: not with the passing of years or centuries or millennia. It never stops."

Oloriel did not know how to reply to the pain in his voice, so she didn't. Instead, she left the black standard where it stood and continued to search among the fallen bodies, to see who or what could be recovered. A few moments passed before Elladan shook himself from his stupor and began to help her with the grim work, but neither one spoke to the other. 

A muffled cry away to the north caused Oloriel to look up suddenly. She saw Elrohir, several hundred yards away, fall to his knees next to something. A cold bite of fear strung her heart and she quickly ran back to her horse, mounting up and making her way at a reckless pace toward where she had seen the Elf kneel.

What she saw when she arrived there eased some of the anxiety in her heart. Nessúlë was covered in filth, lying prostrate on the ground, but her eyes were open and clear.

She quickly dismounted and knelt down beside Nessúlë, across from Elrohir, grasping her hand apprehensively.

"What is it, what is wrong?"

The other _elleth_ grimaced slightly. "I… my leg…"

"Is injured," Elrohir finished for her, "We must get her off the field."

"I can't walk very well," Nessúlë spoke in a disgruntled tone, "That is why I laid down. I didn't feel anything until after the battle, but then the pain was terrible and I became rather light-headed."

Elrohir didn't reply, merely lifted Nessúlë up into his arms while Oloriel took the sword from her friend's hand. The Elf started walking resolutely toward the gate, still some great distance away, before he was stopped by Oloriel's gentle admonishment.

"You cannot carry her all the way back, Elrohir. Take my horse, I can ride with Elladan."

She spoke these words just as Elladan rode up. The Elf, having heard her offer, reached his hand down silently to pull her up behind him.

Elrohir accepted the proposal and did his best to gently lift Nessúlë onto the horse so she sat sideways across its back. Despite the efforts, Nessúlë still let out a small hiss of pain. With a dark brow, Elrohir mounted up behind her and gently wrapped her in his arms as they began to move slowly toward the city.

A few moments passed before Nessúlë finally broke the silence. "This seems all too familiar," she sighed wryly, remembering the first time she and Elrohir had met, the day she and her companions were attacked by Orcs outside of Imladris.

"Yes," Elrohir agreed, "You do have a propensity for getting yourself into trouble… I should not have let you fight."

A warning fire lit up in Nessúlë's eyes. "You could not have stopped me. And it would have been a mistake if you had. Every sword was needed in this battle, and I dispatched as many of the enemy as most did, I am sure. I may have even matched you."

Elrohir chose to ignore the fire in her eyes. Perhaps he had seen it too often and was now inured to its heat. "You flatter yourself, lady. One sword hardly ever makes the difference. …And I would have gladly taken all your killings to spare you this pain."

Nessúlë narrowed her eyes and muttered for his hearing alone, "I will keep my killings _and_ my pain. At least they are my own."

Elrohir nodded curtly and turned his eyes forward, toward the city gate. Conversation ceased between them until they were quite close to the gates and another controversial issue had presented itself.

"You will not take me all the way to the Houses of Healing, Elrohir!" Nessúlë glared at the Elf holding her. "I will be tended to well enough in the tents with all of the other soldiers. I am no great lady, and deserve no special treatment. Neither do I _need_ special treatment, for I am not in any grave danger."

Elrohir pressed his lips into a thin line. "You are one of the Eldar and will be seen as a great lady wherever you go. The healers will surely welcome you there, and you _do _deserve special treatment, because unlike the soldiers you were never expected to fight. Of your own will you put yourself into danger for the cause of Men and have gained great honor because of it."

"Let me keep my honor then!" Nessulë snapped, "And do not carry me away like a sack of grain."

Elrohir smirked. "No one will think less of you, lady. You are injured, and I hold the reins. You may try if you like, but I do not think you have the strength to wrest them from me."

Nessúlë did not continue to protest, but her clenched teeth showed clearly her displeasure.

During the journey toward the gate, Oloriel and Elladan had been riding several feet behind the arguing pair, trying to act as though they were at ease with each other. They were not completely silent, but the conversation was somewhat strained as they both tried unsuccessfully to forget the words spoken on the field before the discovery of Nessúlë.

Oloriel could feel the shadow that still clung to Elladan's spirit, and she did not know how to drive it away. It was almost as if the Elf was wrapping it around himself and wouldn't let go. On the outside, he still looked lordly and valiant, riding into the city to bowing heads and awed greetings, but she could feel that all was not right with him, and it made her ache inside.

~~~

It was almost an hour later when a fuming Nessúlë had been safely deposited in the Houses of Healing and farewells had been exchanged. Elrohir would not be drawn from Nessúlë's sides, despite her fury, but Elladan and Oloriel both felt that they should return to Aragorn's encampment in the fields below.

The air was still tense between Oloriel and Elladan as they made their way back down through the many levels of the city. Oloriel rode her own horse now, and so there was not even a comforting touch to dull the sharpness of their silence.

Both Elves knew that their thoughts were laid bare to the other, and neither one attempted to close themselves off. They were both far to weary for such an effort. As a result, their miseries, heartaches, and worries swirled together and mixed until it was hard to distinguish where one's own pain began and the other's ended.

They had made it to the second level of the city before Elladan broke the silence.

"You did not tell me you were injured."

Oloriel smiled bitterly. "There seemed to be more pressing matters. It's nothing serious."

Elladan flinched at her tone. He could feel her hurt acutely, and knew that she was suffering just as much as he. 

__

//Will you let me look at it before you retire?// he questioned softly.

Oloriel nodded her ascent. 

~~~

"I see that you have already wrapped some of your other wounds," Elladan commented as he packed herbs into the nasty gash in Oloriel's side, "Do you need me to reapply them?"

Oloriel shook her head slowly. "They were all shallow; nothing to be anxious over."

Elladan took long strips of cloth and began to tie up Oloriel's wound. She held her shirt up just enough so he could work, but was careful not to reveal too much. The delicate procedure made her decide that, gentle and skilled though he was, it was not worth the effort to be nursed by the Elf who was courting her. She was far too exhausted to want to deal with propriety. All she really wanted to do was curl up into a tight fetal position and forget. It was a rather discomposing state to be in, for she had never once in her long life been this weary. 

"It should heal quickly," Elladan spoke with reassurance as he finished wrapping the bandage around Oloriel's midriff. She pulled her shirt back into place, and the two of them sat silently watching each other for a moment. Finally, Elladan broke the stalemate by leaning in to place a kiss at her temple. "I thank the Valar that it was not more serious," he whispered. 

This affectionate gesture seemed to break down the last remnants of the brittle wall that stood between them. Oloriel smiled softly and leaned into his shoulder.

"I am sorry for what I said earlier," Elladan whispered into her hair. "I should not have let despair take me, not after the miracle of today."

Oloriel nodded her head where it lay against him. _//No need to ask forgiveness. I understand.//_

The two sat there for a few moments longer, taking comfort in each other's presence. As she leaned against him, Oloriel let her eyes wander around the small tent they were in. This one had been raised for the two Elven maidens, but now that Nessúlë resided in the Houses of Healing, only Oloriel would sleep there. She did not look forward to the prospect. As she had been after Isengard, so she was now: she did not want to be alone. And she had a feeling that Elladan did not want to be either.

Reluctantly, Elladan began to move away from her, preparing to go find his bedroll and leave his ladylove to her repose. A hand on his arm halted his exodus. He looked down at Oloriel and caught the pleading look in her eye. He sighed. It really wasn't proper. His heart was telling him to forget propriety, that they had just survived a meeting with Death and simply needed to be near each other, to be reminded of life, but he did not want slander to come upon his lady.

With his heart and mind torn in two, he decided on a compromise. Gathering up an armful of blankets, he beckoned for Oloriel to follow him outside. The weather was mild, and the stars would be a comfort. Making his way to a place where several other tentless soldiers were taking their rest, he spread out the blankets and created a makeshift bed. Oloriel sank down upon it gratefully and let him wrap her in his arms. 

__

//Hannon le.// He heard Oloriel's gentle whisper in his mind. Smiling, he pulled the last blanket over them both. And with such comfortable, and comforting, accommodations, the two Elves bent their minds toward the Path of Dreams, where they could walk together away from the sights and sounds of war.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Aragorn's countenance lightened as Elladan and Oloriel entered the tent. He had seen them early that morning, before the sun was up, sleeping peacefully next to each other and was glad that they at least had found a few hours of peaceful rest.

The night had not been so kind to him, however. He had not slept at all. For most of the quiet hours he had employed his healing skills where they were needed, and whenever there was a lull in activity his thoughts would turn to the grim future and not allow him rest or peace of mind.

Arien* was at the zenith of the sky and the time had now come to speak of that future. His eyes grew somber as he wondered how the council would meet his proposal. He had not taken up authority yet and would command no one. The choice to stand with him was a free one. 

Éomer King, Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth, and Elrohir were already assembled in the tent. Now Elladan with Oloriel had come, and a few steps behind them, Gandalf. For a moment these leaders of the West gazed upon one another and a collective breath was held. They were the instruments of fate, and each one prayed in his heart that they would choose aright.

~~~

After some discussion and explanation, Aragorn had finally made his mind known. The other two men of the council looked rather apprehensive, the two Elven princes seemed resigned, and the glitter in Gandalf's eyes made one wonder if he was quietly surprised, or shrewdly pleased. Oloriel stood calmly at the side, thoughtful. She was no leader, and knew that the decision did not lay with her. She would follow where Aragorn led.

The plan was simple: they would march to war against the very gates of Mordor, and with the act, keep Sauron's roving eye strained upon them and nothing else. Victory was impossible, this was known, but victory was not what they needed most. The Ringbearer needed time – time to see to the end of the Dark Lord's power. And time was something that the armies of the Free Peoples could give him. 

They were silent for a while. At length Aragorn spoke. "As I have begun, so I will go on. We come now to the very brink, where hope and despair are akin. To waver is to fall. Nonetheless I do not yet claim to command any man. Let others choose as they will."*

Then Elrohir said: "From the North we came with this purpose. We will not turn back."*

"As for myself," said Éomer, "I have little knowledge of these deep matters; but I need it not. This I know, and it is enough, that as my friend Aragorn succoured me and my people, so I will aid him when he calls. I will go." *

"As for me," said Imrahil, "the Lord Aragorn I hold to be my liege-lord, whether he claims it or no. His wish is to me a command. I will go also."*

With the council agreed on this point, other matters were brought forth to discuss. Such as the muster of the force departing, and what defenses would be left for the White City. It was some hours later, when Oloriel finally left Elladan's side, and made her slow way up through city streets toward the House of Healing.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"It may have been quite beautiful once," Nessúlë spoke with a faraway look in her eyes as she gazed out her small window onto the city below. "So much of it has burned. Should the war ever be won, it will be hard to have the celebrations dampened by such ruin."

Nessúlë knew that she was talking mostly to herself, but she did not mind. Oloriel had been with her for several hours already, and they had now settled into an easy companionship, talking or sitting quiet or reading as the thought took them.

A few minutes passes and Oloriel came to stand next to the window seat where the other _elleth _reclined. She peered out the window as well, but her eyes were drawn more to the fields below than to the white walls and city streets. With her keen sight, she could see the tents clearly, and thought she spied a few people that she knew by name. Apparently all those of her close acquaintance were still closeted away somewhere, planning and rethinking and planning again.

A few moments of silence ebbed away before Nessúlë pinned Oloriel with a penetrating glance.

"You have not spoken of them at all this afternoon."

Oloriel let out a dry laugh and turned away from the window. "Do you really want me to? I doubt you will like what there is to hear."

"What, has Elrohir bribed the healers to tie me to my bed?" Nessúlë quipped, "Has he melted down my sword or stolen my horse?"

Oloriel laughed more mirthfully at this. "No, nothing that amusing I'm afraid."

A pregnant pause ensued as Nessúlë waited for the revelation.

"They mean to march against the Morannon*." 

The words hung lifelessly in the air for a moment before floating indifferently to the ground. Nessúlë sighed.

"They go to death then?" she asked no one in particular. As Oloriel looked on, the she-Elf's face contorted into a bitter grimace and she turned away as if to hide. "Sometimes I despise myself," she whispered almost inaudibly. 

Oloriel looked worriedly at her friend, not understanding why she had said that. 

"My leg… I will not be able to go, will I?" Nessúlë stared blankly at the wall opposite her.

Knowing that there was no use pretending, Oloriel nodded slowly. "But that is no reason to be angry with yourself, _mellon_," she tried to comfort, "Even the mightiest worries take injuries. No one will blame you for not being there."

Nessúlë laughed bitterly. "That is not why I am angry with myself. Not at all!"

"Why then?" Oloriel knelt down beside Nessúlë and tried to catch her eye.

"Because…" Nessúlë did not blink as a single tear rolled down her cheek, "Because for a moment I was happy for my injury. I was happy that it would not be me, that it would not be my death!"

A sparrow somewhere outside began to sing tentatively. The merry notes clashed with the tense air in the healing room.

"If I was well," Nessúlë spoke tremulously, "then I could hide behind my own ambition and stubbornness. I see now that this is the truth of it. It's easy to be fearless when fate pushes you along; you do not have to think about why you are going or where you are going. But my body betrayed me, and now my thoughts are all I have left… and even they betray me." 

For the first time in their acquaintance, Oloriel witnessed Nessúlë crying, and she would not see such a thing again for many long years. It made her feel as though the world had been tossed in a bag and shaken up side down. The strong were becoming weak, the weak were becoming strong, madness was wisdom, and prudence was folly. The world was remaking itself, and in the depths of her spirit she wondered if she would ever feel at home again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Two days had passed since the fateful council was held. Time had been needed to ready the Men, but in some ways Oloriel wished that it had not taken so long. Then perhaps this would all be over.

She felt numb as she passed out through the broken gates of the Rammas Echor* in the bleary morning sunshine, her horse flanked by the son's of Elrond. Up ahead was the rest of the vanguard where Aragorn rode, proud and grim, and behind stretched a host of seven thousand Men. To her eyes it looked like a great company, but in her heart she knew otherwise. The immense presence of the Ephel Dúath did much to further impress this thought into her mind. 

Who knew what lay beyond the great black peaks? What terrors dwelt there? It might be that the Dark Lord had unleashed only a taste of his evil. The Nazgúl king had been slain, yes, but this did not diminish the sense of hopelessness that Oloriel could feel throbbing from the Men around her, or from herself. 

And yet, mixed with the hopelessness was also a sense of determination and fortitude. They marched to what would, in all likelihood, be their doom. But still they marched. They marched against cowardice and slavery, against malice and cruelty. They marched against fate and darkness, against all the powers of the world that sought to snuff them out. They marched in a last attempt to save their homes, their children, their wives and their sweethearts. They marched for honor and love and duty and for the days of peace which they had never seen, but which still sung to them out of the Ancient Days and beckoned to them with a hope that would not be denied. They marched with a hardened glint in their eyes that bespoke of unquenchable spirit. They marched because they would not cower and wait to be slowly eaten by the shadows. If these were to be the last days of Men, then they would rush headlong into the darkness with sword brandished high. They would not go quietly into the night, but would pierce it and be consumed.

Oloriel's bright eyes lifted up to the sky as a soft spring shower began to fall lightly upon her. She pushed the cloak of her hood back and let the raindrops caress her face. This was perhaps the last time that she would feel the gentle touch of the rain in this land, and for her it made the experience all the sweeter. She was one of the Eldar: she did not fear death. Her spirit was bound up with Arda, and as long as it endured so would she. 

She wondered absently what death would feel like. Not pleasant, surely, but she thought she could bear it. For peace free from shame, as Elladan had said, she would bear it if she must. 

Unfortunately, it would not be so easy to see others die. Oloriel's gaze wondered to the Men around her, and then to Elladan beside her. No, that would be almost unendurable. Indeed, if Elladan's soul fled to Mandos, than in all likelihood so would hers. The prospect of dying from Grief scared her more than the prospect of dying by the sword.

Elladan brought his mount nearer to Oloriel's and reached his hand out to grasp her own. He had read her thoughts and did not know of any other way to bring her comfort. 

A small smile tugged at the corners of Oloriel's mouth. Elladan was with her now, and for the moment that was enough.

***

1. Mindolluion – The mountain which Minis Tirith is built against/around.

2. Ephel Dúath – "Mountains of Shadow" that enclose the lands of Mordor.

3. Arien – The sun.

4-7. Paragraphs taken from _Return of the King: Book Five: Chapter IX: "The Last Debate"._

8. Morannon – The Black Gate

9. Rammas Echor – The wall hedging in the farmlands around Minis Tirith.

***

Welcome: Princess Myra, A Monkey's Harp, stardust-creations, kewie351, Narikia, KristaJean, and Sara. You all get e-cookies. = )

****

Kewie351: I'm duly flattered, thank you. ^_~ Typos are the bane of my existence. My fingers get ahead of my sometimes and just do their own thing. I really do know how to spell though! Yay! You even liked my poetry. I'm a sucker for poetry… can't help it. I try not to over-due it, though. ~Well, thanks for the gushy review. Made my day. = )

~Iluvien~


	34. Hope Beyond Hope

Names/Pronunciations/Miscellaneous will come at the end of each chapter. 

'*' signals a footnote

'***' signals a line spoken by Oloriel or Nessúlë in the Common Tongue, of which they are not extremely fluent.

___________________________

Chapter 34.) Hope Beyond Hope

***

__

A flash of smoldering flame and fire 

Ignites the East. Then, higher, higher, 

O'er all the sky so gray, forlorn, 

The torch of gold is borne.

Otto Leland Bohanan 

***

Recap: Aragorn leads an army of seven thousand toward to Morannon*. Oloriel is among the host. Nessúlë was forced to stay behind at Minis Tirith in the Houses of Healing because of a serious leg injury. Two days have passed since the last chapter.

Nessúlë let out a mild imprecation under her breath as she slumped clumsily back down onto the narrow bed. Against the express wishes of her attendant healer, she had tried once again to stand. And, once again, the attempt had been met with ill success. Her restless spirit was beginning to grow unbearable and it irked her to be abed. However, as her latest attempt seemed to have proven, she did not have much of an alternative.

A flurry of white had caught Nessúlë's eye through the open door of the chamber just as her injured leg gave way beneath her. She cringed as she heard the steps of the milky-clad figure slow, pause, and then retrace their path, fearing that it was another nurse come to scold her. There was something incredibly undignified about being chided by a person centuries younger than oneself.

As Nessúlë silently berated herself for her lack of concealment, a golden head came into view around the post of the doorway. Pale blue eyes met her gray ones. Recognition passed over the two ladies' faces as they beheld one another.

"I may not be versed in your tongue," the Woman began, "but I am not mistaken, I think, in assuming that your recent declaration was of a… less than delicate nature. But you appear to be unharmed?" There was a slight question in her voice.

Nessúlë slanted an eyebrow at her unexpected visitor, sensing the slight amusement in her words even before she had deciphered there meaning.

***"Yes, Lady Éowyn… Elves are made not of glass, or light… even one of the Elder Child may…" she shrugged carelessly, "want for grace."

The corners of Éowyn's thin, pale lips twitched almost imperceptibly. She looked at Nessúlë's precarious position on the edge of her bed and at the small stool that had been toppled over. Finally, she let her mouth form a wry smile as she cast an appraising glance over Nessúlë. "I gather that you are restless as well. I see now that I am not the only one caged… and at least I have the use of my legs."

Nessúlë's eyes flitted to Éowyn's injured arm, which still rested in a sling. She nodded her head in acquiescence.

"I go to speak with the keeper of this House, to see if he will free me," the Lady of Rohan continued with a turbulent light in her eyes. "Might I inquire for anything on your behalf?"

Nessúlë pondered the question for a moment. ***"I see in your eyes… you are not… hopeful of your wish being honored." She looked around the room wistfully before continuing. ***"Neither do I hope much… but I ask for… a walking staff."

Éowyn smiled sardonically and murmured under her breath. "That will not aid you in escaping this place."

The _elleth _was disturbed by the bitterness in the Woman's voice, and also saddened by it. ***"Nay, it will not allow escape… But it may allow me to… reach the door, to walk straight. That is a beginning."

The Lady nodded softly and departed. Nessúlë continued to watch the doorway that had once been occupied, her brows furrowed slightly. 'Such despair I see in her. However she might despise it, she may need rescuing in the end.'

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

At the end of the second day's march, the army of Minis Tirith set up camp at the Crossroads of the Fallen King. Oloriel watched with approbation as Aragorn commanded the fallen and marred statue to be set up again. It seemed fitting to repair some of the damage done by the enemy as they moved through this once abundant land.

She found even more satisfaction in the trees. A great ring of tall, sturdy hardwoods surrounded the Crossroads. She had expected all such life to be destroyed by the Orcs, but here they stood, somewhat marked and damaged, but still healthy and strong. As an Elf she took an intimate joy in nature and she was certain that it would grieve her to see the destruction that was to come along their path. But it would also bring her comfort to know that not all was lost. She let her eyes wander westward and southward. Yes, there was still much that was good and green on the earth. Letting her hair free of the leather cord that had bound it, Oloriel closed her eyes and let the soft wind play with her flaxen locks. And for one brief moment a true peace settled into her heart. But the serenity did not last long. Someone called her name and suddenly the mulling sounds of the army, the brooding clouds over head, and the stench of the air assaulted her senses once more. A dull ache settled into her body.

"Oloriel," Elladan called out to her again as he came to a halt a few steps away from her. "The vanguard will ride with Estel to the Morgul Vale. Do you come?"

Oloriel felt an onslaught of his emotions throbbing through her mind. Obviously he had mixed feelings about her attendance. 

She smiled sadly and began to bind her hair back up in the leather cord that she still held. "I will not leave your side, nor would I leave Estel's. I am coming."

Elladan nodded swiftly and turned away from her, moving to ready his horse. Oloriel could still feel the poorly checked emotions that were rattling around in his spirit. On impulse she ran after him and stayed him with a hand on his shoulder.

"What is it you fear? Is there any more danger in Minis Morgul than I have faced already on the Paths of the Dead, at Pelargir, or amidst the Battle of Pelennor? Do I not ride with you to the very gates of Mordor? "

Elladan shook his head slowly. "I hardly know why I allowed you to come with me all this while… except perhaps that I could not bear to be without you. But that is a very selfish reason for bringing you to such a place." His eyes looked straight ahead toward the dank, jagged ridges of the Ephel Dúath* and he fell silent.

Oloriel stepped closer and leant her head against the back of his shoulder. _//Do not think that I have come here for your sake alone, meleth nín. Have you not stopped to think that I would find your absence equally unbearable? Do you think I could have watched you leave, knowing that I might never see you again in this land? Knowing that you might suffer the pangs of death without me by your side?//_

Elladan sighed. "I know the logic of your words, but my heart does not believe them. It will only be pacified by the end of this war, when I may take you home… as my..."

Oloriel's heart quickened and she raised her head from Elladan's shoulder waiting for him to finish speaking. But what he said next was neither what she had expected nor what she had hoped for.

Turning around, Elladan took both her hands in his. "Nay, I will not speak the words yet. They are more fit for happier days." Then, letting the fingers of his right hand trail down her cheek, he turned again to call his horse to him.

Oloriel stood still for several moments trying to understand what had just passed. Was Elladan prepared to ask for her pledge, to become her betrothed? She flinched slightly at the thought. Apparently he wasn't. But why this was so, she could not say. To her mind she couldn't think of anything more comforting, as they stood on the brink of everything that they have ever known, than to rest in the assurance that she belonged to him and he to her. She didn't understand Elladan's reasoning, and his thoughts were so jumbled at the moment that she couldn't read them very well.

The company was being gathered together, and so she forced herself to stir from her daze. Walking off in search of her horse she straightened her shoulders and put a firm resolution in her steps. She would just have to make sure that they both got through this alive so that Elladan could finally finish what he had started.

The Morgule Vale was indeed a terror. But in the end, Elladan's fears seemed to have been groundless. The place was mostly deserted, having been emptied of its hosts and bereaved of its lord. And while the place could still drive a palpable fear into the minds of Men and Elves alike, there was no eminent danger. At Aragorn's command, the bridge crossing the fetid waters was cast down and the putrid fields were set aflame. It seemed a fitting way to purge the land of such heavy evil.

~ Four days later ~

The icy dread that Oloriel had experienced in the Morgul Vale was nothing compared to the raw panic that she saw shining from the eyes of several of the Men around her. They had passed the borders of the living land and were now surrounded by the harsh desolation that lay before the Pass of Cirith Gorgor. A deep layer of horror seemed to permeate all the lands, sending quite a few of the Men into a stupor a fear, being unable to either walk or ride forward. It was not many minutes before Aragorn halted the company and turned a sympathetic eye upon the Men. It was through no fault of their own that the Dark One's influence was able to paralyze them.

"Go!" said Aragorn, "But keep what honour you may, and do not run! And there is a task which you may attempt and so be not wholly shamed."*

Then Aragorn spoke of the fortification at Cair Andros, and how the Men who so chose could be of use in driving out the last remnants of the Black Forces from that isle. Some of the Men were shamed by his kindness and so found the strength within themselves to stay with the company, and others were greatly heartened that they might be able to acquit themselves with some honor, though not in the way that they had set out to do.

Oloriel had not thought that she could admire Estel more that she had, but this display of his compassionate wisdom increased her respect for him nonetheless. How could one feel despair for the race of Men when there was such a Man as Estel? 

'If he should ever come to his kingship,' she mused, 'I will do anything I am able to help him and his country prosper. And even now, I long for him to come to such days of peace.'

Elladan seemed to understand her thoughts and likewise she perceived his approval. They looked at one another and knew that, at least in this, there were of one mind. They would aid Estel even if it cost them their very lives. 

Little conversation passed that day for all were weighed down by the shadows of the mountains. That evening they made camp to the north and east of the Gate. Needless to say, spirits that night were greatly subdued. The mire and slag that filled the valley was itself enough to depress the spirits.

Elladan shivered as he stood on watch. This was a most unnatural place for an Elf to be and he would rejoice when the day came to depart. This thought made him equally uncomfortable, for in reality there was more than one way to leave this valley behind.

The watch change came well after midnight, leaving Elladan only a few hours to find rest. He felt the strong urge to lie next to Oloriel as he had after the Battle of Pelennor, to let her warmth dissipate the unnatural chill. But he wasn't sure if he should do so without her consent. It took only a fraction of a moment to realize that this was a needless worry. As soon as he entered the Path of Dreams he would be with her again and she would hardly take offense. With this assurance he stole his way through the camp and found where she lay. He looked on her sleeping face and thought that the stars looked beautiful in her eyes. It may have been more responsible of him to not leave her behind, but he was glad that she was there now. And he prayed that she would still be there after the deeds of the coming morning.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A few rays of bleary morning sunshine pierced the thick blanket of clouds overhead. The embassage of Sauron had come forth from the gate carrying the tokens of the Hobbits and demanding all sorts of subservience from the Men of the West. The hearts of the company were disheartened by the apparent knowledge of the Halflings, but not overthrown. They refused to bow to the demands of the Dark Lord.

Elladan whispered a fervent prayer to the Valar as the drumbeats began to echo between the mountains. The Mouth of Sauron was fleeing with his entourage back through the Morannon and now the stage was set. A great host began to pour forth from the Black Gate and from the East, in the shadows of Ered Lithui*, there rose up a host of the Easterlings to flank the Army of the West.

In short time there company, now dwindled to around six thousand, was surrounded by the dark host, like a beleaguered rowboat in the midst of a tumultuous sea. It seemed to be the end of all things.

But Elladan refused to let this shadow overtake his heart. Casting one last look across the face of his beloved, he braced himself alongside his brother and the Dúnedain to await the first wave of their foes. All his strength was needed to withstand that first shock.

Great hill-trolls of Gorgoroth led the onslaught, crashing into the line of Men and Elves. Elladan worked to focus his mind on the task at hand, to shut out all else but the movements of his enemy. However, a soft persistent presence in his mind reminded him that he was not alone. As they had on the Pelennor, Oloriel and Elladan began to fight almost as one, working with deadly precision to fend off their foes. Oloriel was greatly disadvantaged in this fight, but with wit she acquitted herself well in many encounters. The only problem was that the enemy never stopped advancing, never faltered. The Army of the West was slowly drowning in an overwhelming sea of black hatred and soon despair began to grasp at the hearts of all the company.

And then something happened that, for Elladan, made everything infinitely worse. In the hustle and din of the battle, he and Oloriel were swept apart. Within but a few moments they found themselves separated by several yards of moving bodies and were both somewhat disoriented because of it. When Elladan finally caught his bearings there was only one thought on his mind: to reach Oloriel as quickly as possible. He knew that she could not survive long on her own and his heart raced with this knowledge. Dodging his way recklessly through the throng, and being thoroughly fixated by his goal, he did not pause to take account of his own safety. And this was why he provided the hill-troll with such an excellent target.

Just as he caught sight of Oloriel's golden head a massive club crashed down across his shoulders, impacting with his head and back, and puncturing his left shoulder with one of its protruding spikes. Before he even had the chance to cry out the world went black and he fell to the battlefield. 

The hill-troll reached out hungrily toward his newest victim, hoping to take a taste of the Elvish flesh before moving on. He had hoisted Elladan's upper body off the ground by grasping the Elf's dark locks and was sniffing appreciatively at the fresh meat when his movements were stopped by the cold bite of a blade. 

Oloriel, nearly mad with fright and anger, had summoned all her strength to bear down upon the troll. She experienced a sort of crazed pleasure as her Elven blade tore through the flesh of the troll's stomach, going in up to the hilt. The moment was quick, however, and was shattered as the troll's stunned eyes met her own. There fading light made her shiver and the gore that was oozing out onto her hands made her want to vomit. With a raw cry she drew her blade out and let the tortured creature fall heavily to the earth. One of its great arms fell across the crumpled form of Elladan. Oloriel moved quickly to drag her beloved away from the stinking corpse, but she did not have time to turn him over as the battle continued to rage around her. Leaving him where he lay, face down on the ground, she braced herself over his body and swore to defend him against the whole host of Mordor if need be.

For several minutes she fended off all those who tried to approach, and indeed, there was a harsh light in her eyes that seemed to discourage the common Orcs from even attempting to assault her. Another troll had come, but she had chased it off with her last two arrows and a throwing knife. Elrohir, appearing as if from nowhere began to aid her as well, stricken by what he thought was the loss of his brother, but even more determined to claim vengeance against the foe. And it was well that he did come, for shortly afterward, Oloriel received her own injury.

An Easterling dart had found its way into her right thigh, causing her to loose the use of her leg. She stumbled to the earth and lost her grip on her blade. Uncertain of what else she could do, she crawled over to where Elladan's body lay in the dirt and covered it with her own, using her light Elven cloak to staunch the bleeding of his wound. Tears began to stream down her cheeks and into his hair. _//Is this how it shall be?//_ she questioned, trying to reach out to him with her mind. There was only a vague responding emotion, and though it gave her hope for his life, it made her sorry that she would not be able to say good-bye. 

//At least I am with you, here are the end. Namárië, melleth nín, aen govannim ad athan i'mýr o sen ëa {Farewell, my love, may we meet again beyond the shadows of this world}._//_

Darkness began to creep over Oloriel and she did not have the will to fight it. As her mind fled inward on itself she thought that she heard a great shouting rise up, but payed it no heed and sank further into herself, eyes glazing over in exhaustion.

__

The Eagles are coming! Gandalf's echoing voice rung jubilantly in the air. And many others took up the cry as well. _The Eagles are coming! The Eagles are coming!_

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Nessúlë turned her gaze from the noble pair with a hint of reflection in her eyes. She had seen the Lady Éowyn converse with Lord Faramir on a several occasions and wondered what lay there. The Rohirric Woman was still so cold and Nessúlë wondered what comfort could be found for the new Steward's grief-ladened heart in that sort of companionship. Éowyn was undoubtedly a noble lady, strong and valiant, but to Nessúlë's mind her presence did not carry with it a healing balm, but a festering sadness. Perhaps the Lord Steward could help the Lady, but she had little hope that the Lady would be able to repay the debt in kind.

As she cast her gaze back toward the eastern horizon Nessúlë couldn't help but reform her thoughts somewhat. With such a grim vista perhaps the companionship of anything living was preferable to solitude. She could not help it as a shudder ran down her spine. The view was foreboding indeed. For a moment the wind seemed to taunt her, asking her in mocking tones whether she was happy with her new acquisition.

Nessúlë glanced down at her new walking staff quizzically. It was indeed a mixed blessing. Three days before the Warden of the House had finally given in to her plea and allowed her this small means of exercise; now she was faced with the dark results. A chill crept into her bones which the cool wind could not entirely account for. Uncertain lay in the air like a hovering mist. She felt that something was happening – an action of great import. Perhaps the battle had begun, or perhaps it was merely the calm before the storm.

As her dark locks whipped around her neck, Nessúlë turned her face more directly into the wind. She had caught a snatch of conversation between the Man and Woman nearby and could not help herself from wanting to hear more. It was a distraction at least.

"But come, my friend, let us not speak of it!" Éowyn was saying, "Let us not speak at all! I stand upon some dreadful brink, and it is utterly dark in the abyss before my feet, but whether there is any light behind me I cannot tell. For I cannot turn yet, I wait for some stroke of doom."*

"Yes, we wait for the stroke of doom,' said Faramir.*

As he spoke the words, Nessúlë felt a deadly calm steal into the air. The noises of the city became distant, and then fell utterly silent. Her limbs felt heavy and it was weary to stand. She tried to move away from the wall, but her body would not obey her command, as if she were frozen in ice and was looking through the transparent frost onto an equally frozen world. Time halted. Even the beating of her own heart seemed to loose itself in the void of silence.

Then presently it seemed that above the ridges of the distant mountains another vast mountain of darkness rose, towering up like a wave that should engulf the world, and about it lightenings flickered; and then a tremor ran through the earth, and they felt the walls of the City quiver. A sound like a sigh went up from the lands about and her heart beat suddenly again.*

The dark wave had blown away, as if swept aside by the soft wind. And for the first time in many days the gray clouds began to part and the unsullied rays of the sun fell clear and free onto Nessúlë's face. A joy began to creep into her spirit that she could not deny. It seemed as though the whole earth was singing and she could feel the rhythm in her very bones. She felt like dancing and shouting, but was so lost in wonder that she knew no what to do. What had happened? Oh how she wished she knew!

Thankfully, it was not many more hours before she and the rest of the city heard of what they so desired to know. For the Eagles came and spread the sweet news. And there was much singing and much dancing until voices were hoarse and feet were weary. For the dominion of Sauron was no more. The dark tower was cast down, and the light of the sun gleamed with renewed brilliance. There would be another dawn for Men, and great was the rejoicing in the White City that day.

*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Elladan's mind was weary. He had walked long in the blackness and knew not which way to turn. Sometimes he would be taunted with the far-off murmur of Oloriel's voice or the vague image of her form, but it was always snatched from him, and he continued to walk aimlessly in the confines of his own darkened mind. He knew that he must still be alive, but he also lacked the strength of will to wake up. He was lost. And it was some time later before he found his way again, when, with an exhausting surge of will he broke from the realm of dreams.

The world came back slowly and the light hurt his eyes. It seemed too bright, much too bright, but he couldn't focus his mind on this fact. For several moments he simply tried to quiet the storm that was raging inside his head. 

After the light, and the throbbing pain of his body, the first thing he became aware of was the weight that seemed to be pressing down upon him. It was not a painful pressure, but it was confusing. He was puzzling over this mystery when his thoughts were interrupted.

"Elladan, you are awake. Oh thank Eru!" Elrohir fell to his knees beside his brother. The battle was only recently ended, and the uninjured Elf had left for a few moments to find what he would need to tend his brother's, and Oloriel's, wounds. "I tried to wake you before but your mind was far from me – much too far for me to reach you."

It took a few moments for Elladan to process these few words. Finally, he managed to speak on his own, though his throat was rather parched. "Why is everything so bright?" He winced as he spoke. It appeared that talking made the throbbing in his head worse.

Elrohir beamed. "My dear brother, Sauron is overthrown! The Ringbearer destroyed the power of the Dark Lord! The One Ring is no more!"

Despite the discomfort that Elrohir's loud exclamations brought to his pounding head, Elladan could not help but grin widely. Beyond all hope, hope had been reborn. He let out a deep breath and closed his eyes to the world. Beneath his eyelids a single tear escaped and trailed down to the earth. 

Peace. Could it really be? How was it possible? He knew very well that it shouldn't have been possible. And yet the song of hope reverberated within him and he knew it was true. The joy that he felt was beyond words and for a moment thoughts and words escaped him. But, when they returned, the first object that his mind rested on was Oloriel.

Elladan's eyes flew open. "Elrohir, where is Oloriel?" His voice was somewhat frantic, for the events of the battle had begun to return to him. "Is she well?" He was met with the untamed laughter of his brother. 

"Why don't you see for yourself," Elrohir replied once his mirth had died down. "She is, after all, lying on top of you."

Elladan's fuzzy mind tried to grapple with this thought, and then he became conscious once again of the weight against him.

Elrohir's voice softened as he began to move the still unconscious form of Oloriel off of his brother's back. "She's taken a dart in the leg, though from appearances it isn't poisoned... She protected you, Elladan, stood over you and fought off the enemy like she was a hero come out of the Ancient Days." He shook his head incredulously. "When she took her injury she crawled over to you and began tending that wound on your shoulder, then she just shielded you as best she could and fainted away." Elrohir placed a hand on Elladan's arm as his brother began to sit up and captured his gaze. "Elladan, as your brother I give you a very solemn piece of wisdom." 

Elladan raised his eyebrow quizzically and waited for Elrohir to continue.

Elrohir looked down at Oloriel and smiled fondly. "I think you ought to marry this _elleth_ as quickly as you can before she gets away. You'll never find anyone like her again."

With these words of advice spoken, he moved wordlessly and began to bandage his brother's shoulder. When this procedure was completed he turned to attend the _elleth_. As he worked, tearing away the bloodied cloth and cleaning around the arrow, he couldn't keep from smiling. Out of the corner of his eye he could see his brother still staring at Oloriel as he been for the past several minutes. Just looking, as if he had never really seen her before.

"You may want to hold her," Elrohir finally interrupted his brothers reverie, "I am about to pull the dart out."

Elladan was propelled into motion by these words. Reaching beneath her head with his good arm, he raised Oloriel up enough so that her face was lying against his chest. He wrapped his arm around her waist and held her firmly against him. Unsurprisingly, when Elrohir yanked the dart out her thigh, Oloriel woke up.

"Ai!" her cry was somewhat piercing and sent Elladan's head spinning and his vision wavering. He had the urge to shake his head and clear it of the cobwebs, but he was fairly certain that this would only make his condition worse.

The way that Oloriel continue to murmur incoherently convinced Elladan that she was not yet thoroughly lucid. "Shh," he whispered, bending his head down to place a kiss on the crown of her head. "Wake up, Oloriel, the nightmare is over." He called out to her with his mind as well and helped her to regain her sense of reality.

Her eyes began to focus and she hissed in pain. Elrohir continued to dress the wound despite her discomfort, knowing that it was better to press through to the end. The wound was very raw, but once it was wrapped up well Oloriel's discomfort would lessen dramatically.

As her will began to waken within her, Oloriel stuffed the pain away and began to look around the field in confusion. Her eyes fell on Elrohir and then she looked up and beheld Elladan, her eyes widened perceptibly as she took him in. She blinked several times and looked back and forth between him, his brother, and the field, obviously finding it hard to comprehend the reality of the situation. "What happened? Why are we still here?

Elladan smiled. "I am perhaps not the best person to answer your question, as I slept through all of the miraculous events, but suffice it to say that, beyond all hope, the Ringbearer triumphed. The shadow has passed… Sauron is no more."

A light blossomed in Oloriel's eyes and laughter bubbled up from her heart. But too soon, it turned to shaking sobs. It was too much to take in at once, and she was so tired, and so relieved, and so hurt and broken that it was really the only sensible thing to do. Elladan smiled slightly and just held her, letting her lean against him. As the two embraced, Elrohir made an inconspicuous exit feeling fairly certain that neither one would notice his absence.

When she finally gained control of herself, Oloriel looked up at Elladan bashfully. "I am sorry; this is no time to lose control of myself."

Elladan laughed. "No, no. I think it is the perfect time to lose control, when an army of Orcs is no longer at your throat and all the weight of the world has been lifted from your weary shoulders… Do not give me that shamefaced look, I do not think any less of you because of an overwrought heart. We all of us suffer from that malady today." He paused and looked at her seriously. "You can never loose my respect, 'Riel, not after what you did today. You have proven your mettle."

Oloriel looked down into her lap. "Aye, but you did suffer as you did for my sake. This would not have happened if I had not been here. I hate to be the cause of such pain."

Elladan's heart seemed to fill to its breaking point as she spoke. "Nay, do not say such things!" He captured her face between his hands and let his thumbs wipe away the remnants of tears from her cheeks. "You have been the cause of such immeasurable joy to me that I can never pay enough homage to you. Never believe that your presence is anything but a blessing. I will be forever grateful that you were here with me on this great day of gladness."

The _elleth _stared back at him with wondering eyes, overcome somewhat by his strong confession. Smiling timidly, she reached up and drew his hands away from her face, clasping them in her own and kissing them. This seemed the only way to express herself since she had failed for words.

For one tenuous moment silence hung between them as they sat gazing at one another. Then, with an impulse born from long-suppressed desire, Elladan grasped Oloriel's hands more firmly and began to speak the words that would change his life forever. 

"I am overwhelmed by you, 'Riel. You were so unlooked for, and yet you are now so cherished. And through no virtue of my own could I have ever devised such a happy meeting. I find myself so incredibly in love with you…" He captured her face in his hands once again and placed a light kiss on her lips. "And it is after all a _much_ happier time…" He tilted his head and smiled a crooked smile while Oloriel sat frozen in anticipation. "Will you be my wife, dream maiden?"

To Oloriel's great satisfaction she restrained herself from bawling like a child… just barely. Several tears did chart a course down her face, but when Elladan was sufficiently assured by the disjointed exclamations of joy that poured from Oloriel's mouth that yes, she would marry him, and yes, she was the happiest she-Elf in all of Arda, he made sure to kiss away each and every one of them before they fell to the ground. He also paid special attention to those sliding down across the edges of her lips, which you can imagine, led to other pleasant pursuits. 

From a discreet distance Elrohir watched this joyful occurrence unfold and smiled in a very self-satisfied way. It was only as the incident began to stretch out to an almost indecent length that he began to shake his head in annoyance. After all, that was his future sister being fondled! He felt an odd sense of protectiveness well up within him. 

He would have to have a talk with Elladan.

***

Ephel Dúath – "Mountains of Shadow" 

2. Lines from _Return of the King: Book 5: Chapter X: The Black Gate Opens_

3-5. Lines from _Return of the King: Book 6: Chapter V: The Steward and the King_

6. Ered Lithui – "Ash Mountains"

Things to Know:

Namárië, melleth nín, aen govad-(i)m ad athan i'mýr o sen ëa = literally, "Farewell, love my, may(it be) meet-we again beyond the-shadows of this earth."

Govadim = govad = "meet", -m = "we"

Ëa = Is Ëa the whole earth or just Middle Earth? I can't remember and don't have the energy to look it up. *shrugs*

In response to **zee**: First of all, thanks for the review. = ) You know what, I didn't stop to think about the bacteria issue at the time, but I've always perceived the Elves as having a great store of knowledge beyond their technological advancement. I mean, some of the Elves that live in Middle Earth were born in Valinor (Galadriel for example) and would have learned many things for the Valar and Maiar, so I can conceive of them knowing about bacteria even if they don't have microscopes. I hope you actually get this far and see this note. Does my explanation satisfy? 


	35. Tying Up Loose Ends

Names/Pronunciations/Miscellaneous will come at the end of each chapter.

""" signals a footnote

""""" signals a line spoken by Oloriel or Nessúlë in the Common Tongue, of which they are not extremely fluent.

Chapter 35.) Tying Up Loose Ends

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

__

Life is a complicated dance

Full of melancholy minor strains

And joyful pirouette campaigns

That set the heart on fire

- Iluvien (I couldn't find any appropriate lines for this chapter, so I just made some up)  
"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Recap: The battle for Middle Earth has been won. Elladan finally asked Oloriel to marry him… and she said yes.

"""""

In the aftermath of the final battle, Elven aid had been sorely needed to tend the wounded and weary. It was therefore unfortunate that two of the four Elves among the company had been injured themselves. In spite of this drawback, both Elladan and Oloriel helped as they could. They were still both capable of providing counsel and intoning the healing chants. And Oloriel, unlike her betrothed, still retained the full use of her arms and hands, though she could not walk about among the wounded.

Elladan and Oloriel were finally relieved of their duties when the core of the army relocated to the Fields of Cormallen, east of Cair Andros. Several troops were still abroad hunting down the last vestiges of the Dark Army, but for the time being, much of the Western forces regrouped among the verdant hills of Northern Ithilien.

After basking in the joyous green of the living landscape for a time, the objective that Oloriel's mind fixed itself upon during the first evening of their sojourn was a bath. She had not truly bathed in over two weeks and the desire, however frivolous, was tremendously tempting. It was decided upon that Elladan and a young messenger boy from Cair Andros should accompany her. It was Elrohir who had suggested the boy, partly because both she and Elladan were still recovering from their injuries, and partly as an insurance of propriety. He probably would have accompanied them himself had not his healing skills still been required.

Having lost her own horse in the battle, Elladan placed Oloriel in front of him on the trip out to the brook and back. On the return journey, the Elf, having no desire to quickly rejoin the camp, let his horse wander as it would, walking and taking occasional pause to nibble at the green grass. It was this extremely relaxed pace that had driven the poor message boy to distraction and caused him to ride ahead back toward the encampment.

Oloriel breathed in deeply as the cool, fragrant air of Ithilien sifted through her damp hair. The night was beautiful with the fullness of spring. She could just hear the fading hoof-beats of the boy's horse and it made her smile in amusement. In all honesty, she supposed that Elladan and she _were_ somewhat exasperating to be around.

Elladan tightened his arm around Oloriel's waist, causing her to lean into him more and rest the back of her head against his good shoulder. He settled his cheek against her cool hair and nudged the horse gently forward.

"Do you have _no_ family on these shores?" Elladan questioned softly.

Oloriel sighed and closed her eyes against the dusky sky. "Nay, I have told you that before. One dead and two gone, and my father's family departed. I do not know much of my mother's family, but I believe that they are also gone." She turned her head to look up at him. "Why do you ask?"

He looked ahead on the trail. "Will you marry me without your family's support?"

Shaking her head, Oloriel laughed. _You ask me this now?_

Elladan smiled sadly. "I only just began to think about it. It seems ill fate to be alone on the day of your binding, with no kin to attend you."

Oloriel nodded. "Aye, in some ways it is. But this is not the first time such a thing has been done. And when my father left he told me to find a mate as I would." She smiled and let her hand trail through the leaves of the tall bushes they were passing. "Being young at the time I was rather aghast at his suggestion. I did not find the thought of binding myself very appealing. I wanted always to be young and free as the wind."

_And what do you want now?_ Elladan asked silently, leaning down to nuzzle her cheek.

"You," she replied simply. _…And a nice warm bed, and a cozy fire, and several days of rest, _and _some clean clothes._ Her head found its place again on his shoulder as her eyelids drooped heavily. "Yes… that is all I want."

Elladan smiled down on her and urged the horse forward again. "A bed will be hard to come by,_ melleth nín_, but a fire I can manage."

Elladan slid from behind Oloriel carefully as she regained awareness. He held his left arm against his chest, the shoulder still tender, but reached up his good arm to help Oloriel down. When her eyes had regained their focus she looked at him quizzically.

"A fine pair we make, _mellnín_ {my dear}," she grinned wryly. "I do not think I can get down safely with only your poor injured self to support me."

"Here, let me help you." Elrohir came up behind his brother and gently but firmly nudged him out of the way. Oloriel swung her good leg over the horse so that she was sitting sideways across its back and with strong ease Elrohir lifted her down to the ground, sliding his arm around her waist to support her as she regained her footing. Then, without another word, he led Oloriel off to where a very small, makeshift tent had been raised for her. Giving her strict instructions to lie down and rest, he turned back to his brother with a sly look. Elladan did not look quite as pleased with himself.

"You seem to be always sweeping my lady away from me, brother," he muttered glumly.

A grin spread across Elrohir's face. "You noticed that, did you?"

"What are you about?" Elladan questioned narrowly.

Elrohir's eyes twinkled. "Brotherly offices, that's all… brotherly offices. Someone has to act on behalf of my sister-to-be."

Elladan shook his head, though a small smile had begun to inch across his face. "Well, _brother_, I will remember your dutiful services when you yourself find a mate. I would not want to be out-done, now would I?"

Laughing bitterly, Elrohir looked up at the stars and sighed. Elladan was somewhat taken aback by this unexpected reaction.

"I don't think I shall ever find a mate…" Elrohir whispered softly before turning back to his brother. "Which is, I suppose, why I must garner as much enjoyment from your betrothal as I can. But do not worry, I will not plague you forever." Elrohir rubbed the back of his neck and turned away before whispering almost inaudibly. "I want you both to be happy."

Elladan watched with a suddenly weighed down heart as his brother moved off toward a large fire where food was being cooked. He hated to see such hopelessness in one he loved so much when he himself had found such joy.

With reluctant steps he turned back to where Oloriel was resting. The sun had finally dipped below the horizon, casting shadows in its wake. Elladan could see, even through the darkness, that Oloriel's eyes had glazed over in sleep. He turned away and made for the open fires, not wanting to disturb her with his restless thoughts.  
  
"""""""The following afternoon"""""""

Nessúlë had been reluctant to leave the ships, for while the River Anduin could not compare to the sea, the rocking of the boats had reminded her of home. But now the journey was over. The storage ships had docked near the isle of Cair Andros, and all that remained of their trek was a short ride to the encampment of the armies.

The caravan traveled slowly, much to Nessúl's chagrin, but the time did not pass dully. Beside her rode the Hobbit Merry, on a small pony, talkative and jolly as most Hobbits are. For several minutes he spoke of the food that he had seen in the stores, then about how good it felt to be in the country once again. He then began to speak about how sad it was that Éowyn had not come with them, because it was such a beautiful land, and how this flower or that tree reminded him of the shire. On the whole, his conversation marveled Nessúlë, for she was aware of the courage that dwelt within this Hobbit's breast, as well as the shadows that he had come through. His resiliency and good humor amazed her. It was not until their journey was almost at an end that Nessúlë began to perceive how Merry's countenance had darkened.

""""""What ails, young friend?" she questioned gently.

Merry cast a quick glance her way before looking straight ahead. "I… I'm terribly excited to see Pippin again, but… but I almost don't want to know… what happened to Sam and Frodo. What if they're not there?"

Nessúlë gasped slightly. """"""They did not… speak to you?"

Merry's small face looked on her with unconcealed curiosity and fear. "What do you know?"

A wide grin broke out on Nessúl's face. "Merry, all is right. Sam and Frodo are whole and well."

With a joyful cry, Merry urged his pony into a canter. "Come, my lady, let us find them!"

Joyful laughter bubbled up from Nessúlë as she set out after Merry. Hobbits were such wonderful creatures. Their enthusiasm was catching.

"""""""""""""""

The water in the wash basin bled as the evening sun glinted on its surface. Elrohir looked at it thoughtfully as he stood up and rubbed his damp hands against a worn cloth. The blood was now washed from his hands but the smell still lingered.

Turning away from the basin he began to weave his way in and out of tents and bedrolls. He had done all he could for the Men he was treating and now most of them lay resting. It was now time for him to find some nourishment. He had not eaten since the previous evening and his stomach was starting to protest.

Elrohir knew that fresh stores had been sent up from the heart of Gondor, now all he had to do was discover where they had been placed. He had some dried meat and fruit in his own pack, but was always one to save such provisions for times of necessity.

After a few minutes of wandering, Elrohir came upon a white tent that smelled of food. Mithrandir had always told him to follow his nose in times of doubt, so without further ado he ducked into the tent and came face to face with Nessúlë, who was chopping up massive amounts of potatoes.

For several moments they just stared at each other. Then, when the air had grown quite thick indeed, Nessúlë pursed her lips and went back to cutting the potatoes with a fervor. When Elrohir continued to simply stand at the door of the tent, she finally spoke.

"You look terrible," she remarked bluntly.

Elrohir's eyes took on an exasperated glint before replying wryly. "You look very well."

"And I _am_ well, no thanks to you." Nessúlë replied as she harshly quartered an unsuspecting potato. "If that healer had been given her way, I would still be languishing away in my bed, drowning in pillows and herbal remedies."

Elrohir let go of the tent flap and moved further inward. "I did what I thought was best."

Nessúlë slammed her knife down on the small table before her. "You have a nasty habit of deciding what is best for me without consulting me, son of Elrond."

"What was I supposed to do?" Elrohir shot back. "You were injured and half-unconscious when I found you! I was not simply going to let you wallow in the camp until an infirmary was set up or I found the supplies to treat you. Your stubbornness is not justification enough to allow you to be put in danger."

Nessúl's face hardened and her body froze. "I had always hoped that my intelligence and sense of duty outweighed my obstinacy. I am sorry to know that you think so little of me."

With these words, Nessúlë looked at the ground forlornly and turned away from Elrohir. She did not want to speak with him any more, did not want to sting or be stung again.

Elrohir shook his head and turned to retreat from the tent, but then thought better of it. Silently he moved up behind Nessúlë and laid a hand on her shoulder. "What must I do to buy another smile from you?" he questioned softly.

Nessúl's back stiffened. "I do not think you can afford it," she muttered.

"But I must try," Elrohir sighed, "and so I will attempt to explain myself." He paused to collect his thoughts before continuing. "When I found you on the battlefield I was so frightened, Nessúlë. I thought you were dead at first, and when I discovered otherwise all I could think about was how you were almost lost and I could not let you fade. Perhaps I over-reacted, but… I cannot apologize for my behavior because I am certain that, given the same circumstance, I would behave in the same way. However, you have to believe that it is not because I think you are incapable or helpless or foolish, Nessúlë. I care about you. That is my only excuse. I care about you far too much to act rationally all the time."

Elrohir's heart pounded fiercely as he spoke. This was the closest he had ever come to revealing his deeper feelings for Nessúlë. But even when he had spoken in a way that he thought so plain, Nessúlë still did not fully understand him.

The rigid lines of her face had softened as Elrohir spoke, the genuine feeling in his words softening her heart as well. She was not quite ready to forget all of her annoyance, but she could not be angry with Elrohir. Since they had first met, he had always been a true friend.

Turning around, she gave Elrohir a small smile. "And I thank you for your care… But, Elrohir, I do not need a brother. I already have one and that is enough for me. All I truly need is a friend, and I have always valued your friendship."

Elrohir admirably restrained his desire to flinch at her words. He most definitely did not care for her as a brother and this seemed to him yet another verification of how Nessúlë would never be able to see him in anything but the light of a friend.

With a somewhat steady smile, Elrohir took up one of her hands and kissed it. "You shall always have my friendship, lady."

Nessúlë smiled and gave Elrohir a quick peck on the cheek. "That is well, for I could use a friend just at this moment… I still have much food to prepare."

Elrohir groaned. "So that is the rub. Does your friendship always come with such stipulations?"

Nessúlë cocked an eyebrow. "Oh come now, it isn't so terrible, is it?"

She handed him a small paring knife and set him down on a crate of onions, then whispered saucily in his ear. "And it will buy you many lovely smiles."

"""""""Several days later"""""""

The roaring of the crowd and the blasting of the trumpets were overwhelming. After the last march of the Unified Army, Aragorn had come before the gates of the White City and been accepted and crowned as Elessar, King of Gondor. Now had come the days of rejoicing.

It seemed to Oloriel as though the whole earth was taking up the celebrations. The sun poured out its brilliance, and the winds danced among the trees, while every flower and blade of grass lifted its face to the heavens. Music was in the air, and soon the city streets were full of dancing, as the King made his way up to the Citadel.

Amid the jubilant crowd, Oloriel's heart was overcome. She walked sedately in the train of Elessar, but she gloried in the happiness of all those around her. There were children again in the White City, and women and musicians and light. It did not seem to matter that ruin lay around them, for the healing hands of the King had come again to the remnants of Númenor.

Unable to contain herself any long, Oloriel began to join her voice with those around her, and soon she was dancing as well. Nessúlë also took up the rhythm, and the two Elven ladies, mystical and regal, wove a benediction with their feet all the way up to the marble steps of the Citadel. Many of the Men and Woman stopped their own celebration in order to gaze in wonder and listen to the haunting song of the she-Elves, and stories are still told of how flowers sprang up where their feet passed.

During her euphoria, Oloriel lost all sense of her surroundings, and it was only when Elladan swept her up in his arms and twirled her around that she remembered where she was. She and Elladan were now in the courtyard of the Citadel. The crowds had disappeared and only a few guards stood along the walls and in front of the great doors of the Tower of Ecthelion. Elessar had already led his company inside the palace, and all was quiet, save for the echoing din of the celebrations in the city below.

Oloriel, breathing heavily, let her head fall against Elladan's shoulder carelessly. She felt dizzy and it took a few moments for her to realize that she had not yet been placed back on the ground.

"Are you… going to let me… down, my lord?" she asked between breaths.

Elladan smiled and tightened his hold on her._ Nay, I do not think I shall._

As he began to walk westward along the wall, Oloriel lifted up her head and asked, "Where are you taking me?"

She did not receive an answer. Therefore, she merely watched in curiosity as Elladan ducked through archways and around corners until they arrived at their destination.

It was a small garden, with a series of fountains along the perimeter that sent spouts of water from one basin to the next. To enter the garden, one had to duck beneath one such arc of water. In the center of the small enclosure were two cherry trees in bloom, with a simple bench nestled between them. It was on this seat that Elladan finally placed Oloriel, straddling it himself and placing her in front of him.

"I found this place when we were preparing to depart for the Morannon, but I never had time to show you," Elladan explained.

"It is lovely," Oloriel replied as she laid her head against his chest. "Thank you for bringing me here."

Burying his face in her hair, Elladan sighed contentedly. For several minutes the two Elves sat quietly, peacefully in each other's arms. However, the serenity was soon interrupted by Oloriel's enthusiastic exclamation: "Oh yes, Elladan! That is such a lovely idea."

Elladan chuckled. Apparently he did not hide his thoughts so well as he imagined. "Do you think so? I was going to ask you about it tomorrow."

Oloriel grinned. "Well, I've found out now, and I'm thrilled with the idea. This will be the perfect place to speak our vows. Your father is coming soon, is he not?"

"It may be a month or more," Elladan replied.

"Oh." Oloriel spoke softly and her brows furrowed slightly. "That long?"

Elladan threw his head back and laughed loud and long. When his mirth finally subsided, he tilted Oloriel's chin up and kissed her slowly. When he broke away his eyes were full of merry light. He leaned down and whispered against her ear, "Will you find it hard to _wait _that long, my lady?"

Oloriel's face flushed as she apprehended the implications of his question. Drawing back from Elladan stiffly she murmured, "That is… not what I meant–"

"Oh, but I think it was," Elladan interrupted mischievously, taking an impish delight in the deeper flush that crept up Oloriel's face. Before she could move, Elladan leaned in a placed a quick kiss beneath her ear. At this, Oloriel sprang up off the bench.

"Elladan! Shame on you." Oloriel chided.

"Why, 'Riel, for a small kiss? I have been more forward with you than that."

"Well," Oloriel's voice quavered, "You can just stop… being so forward. We… I… I mean… Oh, Elladan, stop being so infuriating!"

Elladan tried to smother his grin as Oloriel stamped her foot on the thick carpet of grass beneath her. She was thoroughly adorable.

"Come here, _melleth_, I was only teasing," Elladan coaxed. "I know the bounds of propriety and I will not cross them."

Oloriel just cast an appraising eye over the Elf before her, not sure if she was going to believe him. He still had a roguish look in his eyes. A few moments later, her speculation was interrupted by the sound of Elrohir's voice.

"Oh there you are," Elrohir strode into the tiny garden looking them both up and down. "A small banquet has been prepared, won't you join us?" He held his arm out pointedly to Oloriel. She smiled and accepted his invitation, looking back at Elladan with laughing eyes. Having come to understand some time before the brotherly teasing between the two Elves, she realized now that Elrohir could be a valuable ally. Especially when her betrothed was getting so confident in himself. If he was not checked soon, she felt that she would probably be stammering and blushing right up to her wedding day.

"""""""""""""""

In the days that followed his crowning the King sat on his throne in the Hall of the Kings and pronounced his judgements. And embassies came from many lands and peoples, from the East and the South, and from the borders of Mirkwood, and from Dunland in the west. And the King pardoned the Easterlings that had given themselves up, and sent them away free, and he made peace with the peoples of Hara; and the slaves of Mordor he releases and gave to them all the lands about Lake Núrnen to be their own."""

In all these things, Aragorn, the Elfstone, came to be known as a wise and evenhanded ruler: stern in dealing out justice, but also merciful and good. This knowledge filled Oloriel with an even greater sense of dedication to his cause, and she more than willingly took up the oath which she had sworn before the battle of Morannon – that she would do anything she was capable of to help his land prosper.

It was for this reason that, on the eighth day of May, when the sons of Elrond departed with the Rohirrim for the north that Oloriel stayed behind and Nessúlë with her. By midsummer, Elrohir and Elladan would return with an Elven embassy, escorting the Lady Evenstar to her new home. In the mean time, Oloriel spent her time in the Houses of Healing, instructing as she could those who would learn some of the skill of the Eldar.

Éowyn, the White Lady of Rohan, was one of her pupils, and Oloriel marveled to hear Nessúlë speak of the lady's former coldness, for she was now filled with a steady peacefulness and joy.

Some said that the Lady had found love in the last moments of her despair. Oloriel believed them.

"""""""""""""""

Kallindo sat stiffly at his post, sweeping his eyes across the Field of Celebrant. He had heard many things of late, and his mind struggled to untangle rumor from truth. The Shadow had been defeated, this much he knew, as did all others; one could simply feel it in the air. But many of the other details remained vague, only whispered of in uncertain tones.

Oloriel and Nessúlë had by now become a common subject of tongue wagging. It was proclaimed that they both lived, but where were they? Why had they not returned? Were they injured? Had they truly fought in battle? Had they distinguished themselves or been overwhelmed? Were they now a part of Estel's court? Had they fallen in love with mortal Men – was that why they continued in Gondor? How could two such normally sensible _ellyth _fall in love with Men? All this and more was bandied back and forth from mouth to mouth, almost driving Kallindo mad. He had no interest in speculating on tall tales. All he wanted to know was that Oloriel was safe and whole… and that she had, perhaps, decided against that upstart from Imladris.

Kallindo flinched as this thought swirled through his mind and he shook his head forcefully. That decision had been made long ago, and there was no use dwelling on it now. Oloriel was not his, nor would she ever be, and he had promised to honor that.

He let his head fall back against the tree trunk he was leaning against and started cleaning his small dagger for the third time. If only he could speak to Lantél, then perhaps he could lay to rest some of his worries. Lantél would undoubtedly know more of the well being of his sister, and quite possibly, of Oloriel as well. But Kallindo had not the strength of will to attempt such an encounter. He had no desire to play the lovesick fool, and he could not think of any excuse with which to approach and plead information of Lantél, whom he had only spoken with once before, aside from a bond of great affection which he knew very well did not exist.

Kallindo's reverie was interrupted as his eyes came to rest on two moving figures in the distance. They were just on the edge of his vision and so he was not immediately aware of who or what they were. Aranidil, one of the Marchwardens of the southern reaches of the forest was at a nearby outpost, so Kallindo let out a low whistling call to alert him of a discovery. About a minute later, the older elf appeared. Kallindo silently pointed out in the direction of the approaching figures.

"I do not sense any evil nearby, we will wait for their approach." Aranidil instructed pragmatically.

Kallindo nodded his assent and jumped up into the higher branches for a better view. It was not many moments later when his eyes hardened and he looked away. The sons of Elrond were approaching

"""""""""""""""

Elladan's heart lightened as he and his brother neared the Golden Wood. After traveling through Rohan, and sojourning for several days in the Golden Hall of Meduseld, the brother's had set out on the last leg of their journey. Their father would meet them in Lothlórien, and from there they would return to Minas Tirith. It had been over two weeks since they had departed from the White City, and though he felt rather pathetic for it, Elladan's heart yearned for Oloriel. However, the thought of seeing his family again was almost enough to wipe away his discomfort.

Having reached the edges of the wood, Elladan and Elrohir brought their horses to a walk. As expected, they were soon greeted by a small group of guardian Elves. Their leader, Aranidil, was familiar to Elrohir.

"Good morrow, _Peredhíl_," Aranidil greeted respectfully.

"Good morrow, Aranidil," Elrohir replied. "This is a happy hour, to see you again."

Elladan tuned out the rest of the pleasantries until the introduction of one very somber-looking Elf.

"…And this is my Thirdguard, Kallindo."

Immediate recognition struck Elladan and he suddenly became aware that this Kallindo had been staring at him for several moments. He caught and held the gaze, wondering what the other Elf was about.

The other Elves of the company, including Elrohir, had started to walk into the forest. Elladan willed himself into movement as well, and dismounting his horse, began to lead it under the golden _mellyrn_. A firm hand on his shoulder halted his steps.

"Where is she?" Kallindo whispered forcefully, unwilling to let Elladan go until he had his answers. "Why does she not return home?"

Elladan paused a moment to consider how he should answer. "She waits for me in Minas Tirith. She works to restore the City."

"She waits for you?" Kallindo parroted.

Without word, Elladan lifted up his left hand, where rested a silver betrothal band. Kallindo let go of his should and stepped back quickly. Several tense moments passed before Kallindo broke the silence yet again.

"She is unharmed?"

"Yes."

"Do you swear it?"

"Yes."

With is hand resting purposefully against the hilt of his sword, Kallindo walked around in front of Elladan a looked him straight in the eye.

"See that she remains so, son of Elrond, or your father may loose more than one child."

A flash of anger welled up in Elladan but he suppressed it ruthlessly. He would not abase himself by lashing out this audacious Elf. Clenching his jaw firmly to prevent any unseemly words from coming out, Elladan turned his face away from Kallindo and walked passed him into the heart of the Wood.

"""""

1. Paragraph taken from _Return of the King: Book Six: Chapter V: The Steward and the King._

Things to Know:

Aranidil: "Friend of Kings"

melleth nín: literally, "love my"

mellnín: literally, "dear-my"

ellyth: (pl. of elleth) "she-Evles"

Peredhíl: (pl. of Peredhil) "Half-Elves" – a title

"""""

Iluvien


	36. And They Lived

Names/Pronunciations/Miscellaneous will come at the end of each chapter.

"" signals a footnote

'italics' signify mental communication

****

**A/N:** ff.net has changed the way things are formatted, so that's why things are a bit different.

Chapter 36.) And They Lived

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

__

Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising…

To hope's end I rode and to heart's breaking

J. R. R. Tolkien 

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Kallindo dismounted his horse and looked around in a disoriented fashion. He was still unsure of why he had been chosen to come on this uncomfortable expedition. The last place he wanted to be riding toward was Minas Tirith. Given the choice, he would have gladly trudged through the Midgewater Marshes if it meant avoiding the duty of accompanying Elrond and his family to the nuptials of Arwen Evenstar, and in all likelihood, to those of Elladan as well.

Rubbing the back of his neck helplessly he cast a sidelong glance at his horse before slowly shaking his head. The Lady often did many mysterious things, and Kallindo had an ever-increasing suspicion that he had been selected specifically for this duty and that she knew something she wasn't telling him.

As if on cue, Kallindo felt a gentle calling in his mind. He looked up and saw an airy tent being erected in the dusky light of evening. Lady Galadriel stood nearby, stroking the silken neck of her white steed, her eyes trailing along the ground until they rose up to meet his own. She smiled kindly.

With resigned steps, Kallindo made his way toward the Lady and fell into step beside her as she began to stroll away from the main group of the company.

__

'You gave my grandson a cold welcome when he arrived upon our borders. Why?'

Kallindo weighed his words carefully, but soon realized the absurdity of this effort when speaking with the Lady of Light, who could read the hearts and minds of all. He felt at a loss for words and did not want to discuss the issue. "Do you really have to ask, my lady?" was all he could think of to say. "I feel certain that you know what has passed between Oloriel and I."

Galadriel laughed softly. "Ah, but do _you_ know what has passed between you and her? You were right, Kallindo, I can weigh your heart, though I do not do so carelessly. Did you not determine in your heart that you would be content with Oloriel's happiness? That you would release her from the dreams that you had prepared?"

Kallindo's brow furrowed. "Aye, I did. And I hold to that intent. I do not harbor any more hopes where Oloriel is concerned and I wish her the best of all joys, but… but I–"

__

_'You cannot forgive _him_ so easily.'_ It was a statement, not a question. '_You cannot help feeling anger towards the Elf that stole her away, is this not so?'_

The Elf's mouth suddenly went dry and he cast his eyes toward the ground. "Can you blame me?" he whispered morosely.

The Lady stopped and turned toward Kallindo, pinning him with her eyes. "Nay, I do not blame you. But I sorrow over your bitter resignation, over your surrender." She peered deeper into his spirit and Kallindo felt a wave of shame flow over him. '_You cannot forgive_ _Oloriel while resenting her betrothed. Soon they will become one, and you will either endure, growing in compassion, or be consumed by a hatred of them both. You cannot be divided between the two.'_

Kallindo stood frozen in his place as the Lady walked back toward her tent. He felt the sharp truth of her words cut into his heart. Looking back the way he had come, he saw Elladan sitting with his sister by a small fire. Could he forgive this Elf?

"""""

It took two more days of riding, and two more days of arguing with himself and warring in his spirit, but Kallindo finally felt like he had come to some sort of resolution. And so, with reluctance, he sought out the presence of Elladan one evening as the company camped along Anduin within easy sight of the Ered Nimrais"". He found the sons of Elrond speaking with each other at the edge of the encampment, there eyes intent on the southern horizon.

"Might I have a word with you, Lord Elladan?"

Elladan turned warily toward Kallindo but did not speak. For several moments he simply stared at the Elf, his jaw tightening in anticipation of an unpleasant encounter.

Elrohir cast his glance between the two tense Elves and felt saddened. He and Kallindo had come to a friendly understanding when he had visited Lothlórien last, and he felt somewhat torn in his allegience. Elladan would have his loyalty to the last, of course, but he would hate for these two noble Elves to solidify the animosity that was fermenting between them.

Having received no answer from Elladan, Kallindo simply began to speak, certain that he would sound foolish, but equally certain that what he was about to say needed to be said.

"I believe I owe you an apology, son of Elrond. Neither you nor Oloriel have sought out to injure me in any way and I should not have treated you as my enemy, though I trust that you, who love her as well, will be able to… sympathize with my actions."

Elladan stared incredulously at the Elf before him. The reason he had not spoken before was because he was certain that he would say something worthy of remorse. He had also been fairly certain that whatever Kallindo had come to say to him would be provoking, to say the least, and that every ounce of his self-control would be needed. But now that Kallindo had spoken, Elladan felt rather deflated and bewildered.

"You are asking for _my _forgiveness?" Elladan knew that he didn't sound particularly intelligent at the moment, but it was the best he could do.

Kallindo shifted uncomfortably and nodded, casting his glance quickly toward Elrohir and then back to Elladan. "I once told Oloriel that I released her from my expectations and that she should be yours. I determined in my heart that I would not bring her grief by shunning her or weighing her down with my anger. And I thought that this was enough. But I now realize that I was not quite ready to be so lenient with _you_, my lord. Your brother assured me that you were honorable and would take care of her, but as he also said, this is not much comfort in the end. I was angry with you for taking her away from me… but it was her choice and I should not condemn her, or you… however I may wish to."

Elladan felt strangely humbled at that moment, feeling that, given the same circumstances, he could not have acted nearly so well as the Elf before him. A line of legendary forbears may have begotten him, but he doubted that his noble blood could ever have endowed him with such grace.

"You have my forgiveness then, if you so desire it." Elladan bowed his head slightly. "But allow me also to beg pardon for any grief that I have caused you. A meaningless gesture, perhaps, but one that I sincerely make. For you have shown yourself to be a noble Elf, and it is a pity that you should be so thwarted."

Kallindo smiled wryly. "Yes… a pity."

After a few moments of silence, the Lothlórien Elf bowed stiffly to the two lords and departed. As the twins watched him retreat, an intriguing thought sprang into Elrohir's mind. Not allowing himself to ponder on the idea too much, Elrohir left as well, making a short excuse to Elladan and setting off quickly to make up the ground that Kallindo had covered with determined strides.

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

__

Night blurs in one confusèd whole

Alike the dreamer and the dream.

Richerd Hovey 

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Oloriel woke with a start and glanced quickly around the dimly lit room, eyes slightly unfocused. Flames did not yet dance upon the candles, but the long drapes at the window were pulled back to let in the last rays of the dying sun. She was bewildered for several moments as the illusions of her dream past away and reality took its hold once more on her mind.

She had dreamt of a cold tower, washed in the evening light, empty and longing for its inhabitants. Crawling ivy and barren thorns had grown upon the outer walls and wrapped tightly around the turrets, blocking out even the meager light of evening and casting the lofty room in which Oloriel had found herself into a slowly deepening darkness.

Strangely enough, despite the sense of confinement and suffocation that had crept over her then, Oloriel's heart was not taken by any fear. Something in the breeze, which filtered through the dense wall of ivy, whispered that the time was near. She had tried to question the wind about what was coming, but it had simply laughed and continued to whisper its chorus: the time is near, the time is near.

On impulse, Oloriel had stepped up to one of the small windows of the chamber and tried to reach her hands through the ivy. Tugging and pulling and straining, she had finally been able to create a small opening through which she could just make out the winding road that led up to the tower gate. In the silence that followed her efforts, the sound of a gentle voice singing had reached her ears and for a moment she had imagined she saw a figure riding up the road. But before she could discern who it was, she had awoken.

As she sat on her bed, still partially entangled in the dream, she thought for a moment that she was still in the tower, waiting for the stranger to arrive. However, this illusion quickly faded and she remembered where she was: in the bedroom of her own small house near the citadel of Minas Tirith.

Smiling wryly, she threw the covers off with reluctance and stood up from her bed. She had not intended to fall asleep, but apparently she had been wearier than she believed. And yet, if this had been so, then why was she awake? She usually made a concerted effort to save her times of rest for when she knew Elladan would be asleep, for during his journey he did not seek the Path of Dreams as often as at other times. But her mind had obviously been in need of rest, and the mysterious rider had intrigued her.

Oloriel's brow furrowed slightly as she put on a light cloak and stepped into the common room of the house. She peaked into Nessúl's room but did not see the _elleth_, which was not surprising since, after all, the sun was not completely hidden from view.

It was as she turned to walk out the doorway that her vision blurred slightly and a faint dizziness overtook her. She steadied herself against a nearby chair and took a few deep breaths. As her vision cleared, she felt the familiar presence of Elladan in her mind and heard a few faint words of greeting. The company had come.

With a broad smile she dashed out of the doorway and toward the parapet surrounding the seventh level of the city. During their time apart, which was now more than a month, mental communication had become much more difficult between Elladan and herself, and so she was more than ready to have her betrothed near again.

Arriving at the ramparts, Oloriel cast her gaze outward to the Rammas Echor"" and watched as the Elven company came through the repaired gates. Elladan and Elrohir road at the head of the company and looked very well to Oloriel's eye. She yearned to run down the seven levels of the city and meet her beloved at the gates, but on the day that he had departed Elladan made her promise to wait for him in their garden. She sighed and let her hands rest against the cool stone of the low wall, deciding that she would at least watch his approach until the company entered the city and would then depart to wait for him beneath the two cherry trees.

As she stood watching the slow procession, Oloriel tried to reach out to Elladan in her mind, but there seemed to be something preventing her and she was rebuffed. Her brows furrowed deeply at this disappointment; could it be that their link was fading? She shook her head as if to banish the thought and turned her back on the wall. Elladan and Elrohir were very near the gates now, so she simply left to wait in the garden.

While sitting on the small bench, her heart fluttering in anticipation, a strange mood came upon Oloriel. As she sat in the garden, alone and silent in the violet light of evening, it almost seemed as if she were living yet another dream. The odd thought came to her that perhaps she had been dreaming all the time. What if, after she had first met Elladan, she had never woken up and this was just a beautiful vision waiting to be broken in the light of day? She shuddered and for a brief moment actually felt cold. Wrapping her cloak more tightly around herself, she leaned against one of the trees supporting the bench, while with all her might she tried to banish her melancholy thoughts. But it was a vain effort, for it was as if a heavy blanket had been thrown over her mind and every thought was slowed down and discouraged. For many minutes Oloriel simply sat, waiting to see if she truly would wake up.

But then the spell was broken. With a startling burst of reality, the soft sound of Elladan's voice, caught up in some nameless song, came lilting to her on the wind. A burst of joy ran through Oloriel's veins, and she leapt up from her seat just as her betrothed came through one of the small archways into the secluded garden. Without word, Oloriel ran into his arms and was drawn into an ardent kiss.

With delight, Oloriel settled her arms around Elladan's neck and leaned into his kiss, as he, with equal enjoyment, welcomed her surrender, tightening his hold on her waist and pulling her snugly against him. A great many moments passed before Elladan finally broke the kiss and let go of her waist, only to cup her face with his hands and lay tender kisses on her forehead, eyelids, and cheeks.

"Come, _melleth nín_," he whispered as he laid a final kiss on her mouth, "there are those who wish to meet you." Without further ado Elladan stepped away and took hold of her hand, leading her eagerly back out into the main courtyard.

That evening Oloriel was introduced to Elladan's father and sister. At first she had felt somewhat overwhelmed in their presence, Lord Elrond being one of the oldest Elves in Middle Earth, renowned for his wisdom, and Arwen, among all Elven maidens fair and graceful, being deemed equal in beauty to Lúthien Tinúviel herself. However, her reservations were soon put aside by the warm welcome which she received. Arwen began speaking with her in a very companionable way about the events of the past few months and about her brother and about both of their upcoming weddings. Elrond placed a gentle kiss on her brow and throughout the evening made it clearly known that, in his view, a prompt wedding was certainly in order. And Elladan's grandparents, Oloriel's Lord and Lady, also divested themselves of their regal forms and treated her not only with their usual kindness but also with a new familiarity and respect.

Oloriel, so overcome by the sincerity of their welcome felt a mist rise up in her eyes, for in one evening she suddenly found herself in possession of a family again – a joy that she had not experienced in many years. Elladan, though he still could not speak with her in thought, seemed to apprehend Oloriel's emotions, turning her face silently towards him and wiping away the moisture that rimmed her eyes. "Don't cry, _melleth_," he soothed her, "This is a time for joy… no more tears."

When Oloriel went to sleep for the second time that day it was with a smile on her face. For she knew, with joyful certainty, that this beautiful life was truly her own and not a dream at all.

""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

__

what if a dawn of a doom of a dream

bites this universe in two?

e. e. cummings 

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It was four days past midsummer and the city had finally calmed down from the flurry of festivity which had surrounded the marriage of King Elessar to Arwen Undómiel. But this was not the end of celebration for some. On the following day a significantly smaller gathering would witness the bonding ceremony of Elladan Peredhel and Oloriel of Lorien, making merry again in its wake.

To Elladan's way of thinking the day could not come soon enough. But despite his impatience time meandered on at its usual, irritatingly slow pace and he had to remind himself daily that, as an immortal, he had all the time in the world.

The sun fell strongly on Elladan's back as he mused on these things, while looking fondly across the green space to where Oloriel sat conversing with his grandfather by the fountain of the White Tree"". The two seemed to get along famously and it gladdened his heart to see it. Celeborn had always been a wise and gentle soul and Elladan often wondered why he and his wife had only fathered one child.

__

'Perhaps it was not his choice.'

Elladan's thoughts were drawn back to the companion walking beside him – his grandmother.

She smiled, rather sadly. "I believed that the world was too grim to bring another child into the world. It is one of the decisions I most regret, for Celeborn does love young ones and was such a good father. But by the time I realized this, it seemed a little late to rekindle parenthood."

Somewhat amazed by her openness, Elladan was unsure of what to say. His grandmother had never been one to regret what could not be changed. This knowledge made her confession even more sorrowful.

In order to alleviate the somber mood he replied jovially, "Well, you should know that it is never too late among the Eldar. Perhaps when you depart for Valinor you will find that the time is right. I certainly wouldn't mind having an aunt or uncle several millennia younger than myself."

Galadriel smiled merrily and paused to give Elladan a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, _penneth_ {young one}, I'll take your words into consideration."

Smiling impudently, Elladan took her hand and drew her down to sit next him on one of the stone seats, which were carved into the outer wall.

"Do you have any sage words of advice for me on the eve of my wedding day, grandmother?"

"Never stop speaking with each other," Galadriel replied promptly. "Silence is terrible."

Elladan's brow furrowed slightly. "Wise words from a beautiful lady... but that reminds me of something else… I have been meaning to speak to you about it, though I do not know if you will have any answers for me."

Galadriel's patient silence prompted him to continue.

"Oloriel and I still share our dreams, but we can no longer speak with one another in our minds. Sometimes I feel like I can still sense her thoughts or emotions, but it is very vague. Why should this be?"

Staring at a flower near her feet, Galadriel thought for a few moments before raising her eyes to meet Elladan's gaze. "I should imagine that you no longer need the gift. You and Oloriel shared an unusual bond, and one that is not entirely without its disadvantages. It is, perhaps, possible to know too much… this has been true in my own life. The ability to see into the deepest parts of another's soul is not always pleasant or helpful. Your gift has served its purpose, and now it fades."

Elladan leaned forward, with his elbows on his legs and hands dangling. "But what purpose? I still don't understand what this has all led up to. Why did it matter?"

Galadriel laughed softly. "Did not you see it, _penneth_. It is not so very hard to see."

Elladan turned a puzzled countenance toward her and she smile, but then her expression softly faded into a somber gaze. "Halbarad… you saved him did you not, using your gift? And who did Halbarad save?"

Understanding sank into Elladan's mind. "Estel, Halbarad saved Estel."

Galadriel nodded. "And Estel rallied the armies of the West and led them to the Morannon, distracting the Enemy and allowing the Hobbits free passage through the Plateau of Gorgoroth."

With wonderment, Elladan cast his gaze back across the garden to where Oloriel sat laughing besides his grandfather. She was dressed pragmatically in a simple white shift, with her hair pulled back in a single braid. She looked altogether harmless at that moment – hardly worthy of notice in the complex plans of mighty rulers and menacing powers. And yet she had, in her own way, thwarted the plans of the Dark One and saved the lands from the midst of shadow.

Elladan gave into the urge and laughed out loud. It was so simple, yet so unimaginable. The Valar were wise indeed if they could use Hobbits and unassuming maidens to carry out the great plan of the ages, while making all the wisdom of the world look foolish in the process.

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__

Dreams of the summer night!

Tell her, her lover keeps

Watch! While in slumbers light

She sleep!

My lady sleeps.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 

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Oloriel looked out the window with worried eyes. There were several dark clouds on the far eastern horizon and she hoped that the wind would not hurry them westward. Although, even if it were to rain, Oloriel felt that she would still speak her vows in the small garden. She loved the rain, and no harm would be done. Turning back to the bed she shook her head sadly. Or perhaps some harm would be done – if not to her, than to the dress.

Unbeknownst to Oloriel, Elrond had ordered a dress prepared before he had departed from Imladris, for he had apparently known that there would be more than one wedding. And there, on the bed before her, lay the product of his thoughtfulness. It was a flowing, willowy creation, all soft green silk and white chiffon. Oloriel could not wait for Elladan to see her in it, for it would be a drastic change from the breeches and tunic or the practical healers habit which were the only outfits he had ever seen her wear in the waking world.

After a few more minutes of quiet reflection, Nessúlë burst into the room, carrying a basket of flowers. She was already dressed in a simple ivory gown and had come to help Oloriel with her own costume and hair.

Setting the basket of flowers on the bed, Nessúlë pulled Oloriel away from the window and began to merrily disrobe her and assist with the wedding gown, chatting all the while.

"Will Elrohir speak for you then?" she questioned as she laced up the back of Oloriel's gown.

"Yes, didn't I tell you? I asked him before they left for Lothlórien. I have no male relatives here and he and I became such good friends when Elladan was feeling impudent just after our betrothal that he seemed the logical choice. I might have asked Nimfallë to do it, had we been married in Lothlórien, but that isn't possible now."

Nessúlë just nodded as she sat Oloriel down to fix her hair. "Pink or red flowers?" she asked.

Oloriel pursed her lips. "Pink. You should use the red."

While Oloriel had chosen Elrohir to be her Guardian, the male who would question her suitor during the binding ceremony and weigh his worthiness, she had chosen Nessúlë to be her Herald, to welcome Elladan into his new family after he had sworn himself as Oloriel's husband. Had Oloriel's parents been there, or any other relatives, they would have taken on these parts. For Elladan the roles would be reversed. Arwen would be his Guardian, in lieu of his own mother, and his father would act as Herald.

As Oloriel sat before the mirror, being fussed over by Nessúlë, she went over her vows once more. The Elven vows were ancient and simple, consisting of three pledges. The first, _I pledge to thee my life,_ concerned a commitment of actions. The second, _I pledge to thee my heart in faithfulness_, called for a commitment of love and emotions. And the final, _I pledge to thee my soul, that it may be bound to thine own until the world is unmade_, spoke of an eternal submission and oneness. Often added to these vows were words of conviction, telling why the Elf chose to pledge themselves in such a way. These were the words which Oloriel rehearsed in her mind, wanting them to be perfect and beautiful and worthy of remembrance.

Oloriel's musing was interrupted as Elrohir knocked softly on her door. After she called out for him to enter, he strode in with his hands clasped behind his back and a sly grin on his face.

"What is that look for?" Oloriel gazed pointedly at his reflection in the mirror.

"Your friend, Írima, sent you something form Lothlórien which I believe you will be very pleased with."

Oloriel cocked a suspicious eyebrow at him and almost turned around. However, the quick reprimand of Nessúlë, who was in the midst of twining Oloriel's hair into a complex arrangements of braids, brought her back into place.

"Very well then, bring it here." Oloriel tapped the vanity table with her index finger.

Elrohir obliged her, walking up behind her and setting a box on the table. Oloriel gasped. Picking it up quickly she threw upon the lid and found what she had expected: her mother's leaf pendent. She beamed as Elrohir picked up the ends of the delicate chain and, reaching beneath Nessúlë hair-entangled hands, fastened it around her throat.

As she fingered the amulet with reverent hands she thought on her mother, hoping that she and _adar_ were happy now, together in Valinor. And as she pondered her imminent wedding, Oloriel felt as though she glimpsed a clearer understanding of the bond that had held them close, and which refused to be separated by the wide sea.

The banter between Elrohir and Nessúlë brought her thoughts back to the present. Apparently the other _elleth _was pressing for more time to perfect Oloriel's hair while Elrohir was insisting that they should depart in mere moments. With joyful anticipation Oloriel waved Nessúlë away from her hair.

"He is right, _mellon_. It is time."

"""""

Celeborn looked fondly at Oloriel as she entered the garden through one of the archways before schooling his features into a more solemn expression. Elladan had arrived just moments before and stood facing Celeborn at a distance of several feet. Already assembled in the garden, and creating a circle around the two trees, were the Elves that had journeyed from Lothlórien and Imladris. The only Human present was Elessar.

Oloriel came to stand by Elladan's right side, looking beautiful as a glorious spring morning. Elladan cast a quick glance toward her and caught his breath. This lovely creature standing beside him was to be his wife! With a dazed expression he brought his eyes back to Celeborn as the ancient Elf began the ceremony.

In a solemn voice Celeborn turned to Oloriel on his left and questioned, "Why do you come before this assembly?"

"To bind myself to this lord." As she spoke she glanced up at Elladan, noting how fine he looked in his deep red tunic and silver circlet.

"And why so, what have you to give him?" Arwen stepped from the cluster of Elves and came to stand in front of Oloriel, her eyes clear and joyful.

Oloriel bowed her head in respect. "I have only my love and my life. I will give it freely."

Arwen smiled and placed a soft hand against Oloriel's cheek. "Speak then with my blessing, sister." With these words she took her place behind Oloriel, as a sign of her support.

Next, Celeborn turned to his grandson and asked why he had come. Elladan replied simply, "To bind myself to this lady."

It was now Elrohir's duty to step forward and question his brother. Only, to the surprise of both Oloriel and Elladan, it was not Elrohir who stepped up to speak, but Kallindo.

The Lothlórien Elf addressed Celeborn first. "By the leave of Elrohir, the chosen kinsman, and because of my deep and lasting affection for this lady, I wish to speak." After a quick glance at Oloriel, Celeborn nodded his assent.

With measured steps, Kallindo came to stand in front of Elladan. "Why do you come? What can you give her?"

Elladan bowed his head but spoke firmly. "My devotion, my love, and my life."

"Will you protect her?"

"I will."

Kallindo reached out and placed a hand on Elladan's arm, causing him to meet his own gaze. With quiet intensity, he asked one last question: "Will you make her happy?"

A silent moment swung between the two Elves before Elladan reached his own hand out to grasp Kallindo's shoulder. "I will strive to do so."

"Do you swear it?"

"I swear it." Elladan's voice was soft but steady.

After a moment of heavy anticipation Kallindo nodded shortly and let go of Elladan's shoulder, moving behind him. "Then speak… with my blessing."

In spite of herself, Oloriel felt tears beginning to form in her eyes. She sought out Elrohir, who stood close at her side, and he smiled reassuringly as she captured his gaze. Oloriel returned his smile tremulously, touched and gladdened by his apparent meddling. Her thoughts were drawn back to the proceedings as Celeborn spoke once more. With haste she blinked the mist away from her eyes.

Lifting his hands up, the Lord of the Golden Wood pronounced firmly, "We who are assembled have heard the will of your hearts and so I do bid you now, Elladan, to take this lady's hand in the sight of Eru and pledge yourself with honor."

Elladan turned to Oloriel, feeling the overwhelming urge to sweep her up into his arms and carry her away. Her beauty took his breath away. The thought that she would soon be his wife was dizzying. In an attempt to steady himself, Elladan took hold of his beloved's left hand with his right and squeezed it softly as he spoke his first vow.

"I pledge to thee my life, lady, for you once preserved my own and I would gladly give it up to protect you and to comfort you. Do you accept my pledge?"

Oloriel's cheek flushed softly at the mention of her valor. "I do," she replied softly.

"I pledge to thee my heart in faithfulness," Elladan continued, "that it may always take delight in your presence and turn to no other. Do you accept my pledge?"

"I do."

The brilliant light in his eyes was answered by Oloriel's own as he spoke his final vow. "Then Oloriel, daughter of Alkarin and Maldalossë, I pledge to thee my soul, that it may be bound to thine own until the world is unmade. For I wish to be a part of you, and to carry your presence with me wherever I go. Do you accept my pledge?"

Oloriel, touched by the sincerity of his words, could not help smiling as she replied, more loudly this time, "I take thy pledge, my lord, and will remember it."

The corners of Elladan's mouth twitched upward as well. "With the vows that I have spoken, I am thy husband."

Celeborn's eyes emanated a soft glow as he turned to Oloriel. "And now I do bid you, Oloriel, to hold fast to this lord's hand and, in the sight of Eru, pledge yourself with honor."

With a giddy spirit, Oloriel began to speak the ancient vows, her body becoming almost numb with happiness. "I pledge to thee my life, to guard you in need and to ease your burdens, to honor you and to bring you joy. Do you accept my pledge?

"My lady, I do." Elladan smiled, almost cheekily.

Oloriel remained solemn with admirable strength of will and went on to speak her second vow: "I pledge to you my heart in faithfulness, for you have filled it with so much gladness that I long for it to rest in your keeping and in none other's. Do accept my pledge?

Elladan, composing his features once more, replied seriously, "I do."

"Then Elladan, son of Elrond and Celebrían, I pledge to thee my soul, that it may be bound to thine own until the world is unmade." For an instant time froze in that little garden as the sun dipped behind a cloud. Then, taking a small step forward, Oloriel leaned toward Elladan and whispered earnestly, "For you are my match, you complete me. Will you accept my pledge?

Elladan tilted his head slightly and brought his left hand up to pass softly across Oloriel's cheek. "I will take thy pledge, my lady, and remember it always."

The sun crept out from behind the cloud and bathed Oloriel's hair in a shower of gold. "With the vows that I have spoken, I am thy wife."

Needing no prompting, Elladan let the hand that rested against Oloriel's cheek slip behind her neck, drawing her into a slow, lingering kiss. Then, with gentle movements and tender words, they both unbound each other's hair, as the first demonstration of their new intimacy. This was, of course, somewhat difficult with the intricate plaiting of Oloriel's hair, so Elladan satisfied himself with merely undoing his bride's loose temple braids, much to the amusement of the gathered company.

With this action complete, Elrond stepped forward and took Oloriel's right hand. "I welcome you into my heart and family, for you are now a part of my son. Let it be know that you will be to me as a daughter." With these words he kissed Oloriel's brow as the maiden squeezed his hand and gazed on him with joyful eyes.

Next, Nessúlë stepped forward and took Elladan's left hand. "I welcome you into my heart. Oloriel is as a sister to me, and so I take you now as my brother. For what she loves, I too will love. Welcome."

"""""

The rain did not come until the celebrations were well under way. A feast had been prepared in one of the smaller halls of the palace and some of the musically minded Elves entertained their companions with ballads and songs and dancing music.

Oloriel especially enjoyed the dancing. Elladan was a fine dancer and she could close her eyes and lose herself in the music without fear, knowing that he would lead and support her throughout the pattern. But it was not long until both she and Elladan were ready to be done with the festivities.

As twilight began to overtake the already dark sky Elladan took Oloriel's hand and drew her into one final dance, inching his way slowly toward one of the side doors of the hall. Of course, his covert movements were not at all inconspicuous as the goal drew near and Oloriel had to press her face against his tunic to stifle her laughter as everyone else in the room tried to pretend they didn't notice.

Arwen and Elessar seemed to think that Elladan had the right sort of idea and so rose from the dais on which they had been seated to take their leave as well, not even bothering to hide their retreat. In the bustle and buzz of departing royalty Elladan slipped through the door and drew Oloriel after him. The hallway soon echoed with her soft chuckles.

"You could have taken your leave in a more dignified manner, I am sure, _melleth_," she chided good-naturedly, "No one would have stopped you."

Elladan rolled his eyes. "I was under the impression that you knew my brother quite well. You can be assured, lady, that he could have found a way."

Oloriel smiled and leaned her head against Elladan's shoulder. "Very well then, lead on, my lord."

Elladan led her down several hallways until they stood in front of an open door, leading into a sitting room of sorts. This was the suite that had been set aside for the remainder of their stay in the White City. Silently, Elladan drew her inside and closed the door.

For a time silence reigned as Oloriel gazed around the room, her back to where Elladan stood, noting the doorway on the right which lead into their bedchamber. The quiet continued unbroken as Elladan stepped up behind Oloriel and slid his arms around her waist, burying his face in her hair.

"You are mine now?" he finally broke the stillness, speaking with an incredulous voice.

Oloriel smiled softly. "Yes, my love, I am."

Elladan swept her hair aside to place a kiss on her neck and then beneath her ear. "Then I need nothing else."

As the echoing sound of the rain reverberated throughout the room, Oloriel turned around in Elladan's arms and kissed him tenderly, passionately. Elladan responded in due kind, wrapping his arms tightly around her. Several moments passed before, drawing back with a sigh, Elladan lifted her up into his arms and carried her through the entrance to their new bedroom, making sure to close the door firmly behind him with his foot.

And this is how it was that a daughter of dreams, plagued by nightmares and creeping despair, came to find salvation in the love of another. For Elladan had filled the empty places in Oloriel's heart until there was simply no more room for terror. It was he who would watch over her, through the night and on into the morning.

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__

And that's all one, our play is done

William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night 

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Two years later, marking the beginning of the Fourth Age, Elrond passed into the West with Galadriel and many of the Elder Kindred that still dwelt in Middle Earth. But not all departed, and the remnants of his own House remained in Imladris for a time under the lordship of his two sons.

Even in this time of waning, there was much joy and light in the Elven realms, as they sought to leave what grace they could upon the world that had been their home for so many centuries. Not the least of their joys was the gifting of children, for during the dark times the merry cries of elflings had all but disappeared in the cities of the Eldar. But in the dawning of the Fourth Age of the Sun a new life came to the First Born; and Elves who had matured during war and death, and had restrained themselves from the deep bond of marriage, now found that their hearts were free to yield to thoughts of families and companionship.

In Imladris the birth of three children was celebrated, one of which belonged to Elladan and Oloriel. On September 3, 12 F.A. little Arannon was born with his mother's green eyes and his father's dark hair. Between his doting _nana _and _ada_ and his adoring uncle the elfling was in very grave danger of being spoiled. However, after listening to ample advice from all sides, and after witnessing several escapades that reminded Elladan eerily of his own rambunctious childhood, the two new parents learned to balance affectionate leniency with loving discipline, doing their best to raise Arannon up to wisdom and goodness.

In the years that they remained in Middle Earth Elladan and Oloriel witnessed the passing of many of their dear friends, the deaths of Estel and Arwen bringing them the most pain. But there were also other experiences that bruised their hearts in different ways. In their own private lives they went through various disappointments. During the final years of their sojourn in Imladris they watched sadly as enchantment and lore faded from among Men. And Oloriel, in particular, felt the weight of aching responsibility when she learned in the year 8 F.A. that Kallindo, rudderless and exhausted, had sailed into the West to seek comfort.

But even during these dark times, Elladan and Oloriel, bound by love and fate and war, found joy and consolation in each other, in the family that they had created together, and in those friends that remained close to them and true in their affection. And so, against all odds, predictions, and hopelessness; and beyond all expectations, visions, and half-wilted beliefs, the two dreamers walked hand-in-hand into the Fourth Age of the Sun and loved and lost and lived.

The End

"""""""""""

1. Ered Nimrais – the White Mountains

2. Rammas Echor – wall surrounding the Pelennor fields.

3. The White Tree – The tree of the kings, symbol of the line of Elendil of Númenor.

Things to Know:

Quenyan:

Alkarin: "glorious"

Maldalossë: "gold blossom"

Arannon: "noble gift (masculine form?)"

Sindarin:

adar: "father"

elleth: "she-Elf"

melleth nín: "love my"

mellon: "friend"

pen-neth: "one-young"

****

**Coming Soon:** "Bend in the Wind", a story of Elrohir and Nessúl

... And yes – before anyone asks – I will definitely write a story about Kallindo as well. = )


End file.
